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The Glorious Light of a full May Moon fell upon the 
Face of the Prettiest Girl in Town. 


iJcmice) 


JANICE 


BT 

JUNIE CANDLER GARRETT 



BKOADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 

835 Broadway, New York 
1913 



Copyright, 1913, 

BY 

JUNIE CANDLER GARRETT 


©CI.A346744 

/ 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE I. 

“ Alas ! How light a cause may move 
Dissension between hearts that love/’ 

The glorious light of a full May moon whitened the 
sanded village street, and fell upon the face of the 
prettiest girl in town, as she leaned on the gate, await- 
ing the coming of her sweetheart. 

She knew that he would come, for here they had kept 
tryst ^^in the gloaming’’ since they were boy and girl 
together at school. 

What a supremely happy being was this girl, — Janice 
Grey, to-night! Living the very sweetest time of life, 
the idol of her home, the belle of the village, and, far 
beyond and above all else to her, loved by Dick Wynne. 
Truly life spread out before her full of rich, sweet 
promise. 

Dick came down the street, whistling clearly In the 
Gloaming, oh! my darling,” and stopping, he took her 
hand upon which his ring sparkled, and kissed her red 
lips. He was a big, handsome fellow, a favorite with all 
the girls, and a favorite of good fortune too. 

He had inherited a nice income, and won the highest 
honors of his class at college, was adored by the finest 
girl in the land, and had never lacked for clients since 
hanging out his shingle as Attorney at Law. 

5 


6 


JANICE 


^^You can never guess whom I met this afternoon,” 
he said, and without allowing her an opportunity to do 
so, he told her that their old schoolmate, Bessie Wilson, 
had come to spend a short time among her friends. 

City life has certainly improved her. I never saw 
such style; and her beauty is something wonderful. If 
I had not already plighted troth to another fair lady, 
I would have surrendered on the spot, and been her 
captive for the remainder of my life,” he declared. As 
it was, I only asked permission to take her to the picnic, 
that we have planned for Wednesday, on the river. You 
know I will have to show her some attention while she 
is here. We are such old, old friends. Fve asked John 
Neal to take you, sweetheart. He is the only man I 
know, that I would be willing to trust you with. He is 
a loyal friend, and he would never try to steal you away 
from me.” 

The cloud that fell upon her face told him plainly 
that the arrangement did not at all please her. So he 
tried to appease her by saying: You know, Janice, that 
I love you more than all the other girls in the whole, 
round world put together; that life to me dear, means 
just you; but I don’t think that I should be made to give 
up all of my friends because I happened to fall in love,” 
and he attempted to raise the brown head that had fallen 
upon the white hands resting upon the top of the gate. 

At school and later, he had divided his favors between 
these two girls. Each one had looked upon the other 
as a rival. The deeper love of his heart, had really 
been given to Janice, but he had always admired Bessie 
greatly. She was pretty and vivacious; danced well, 
sang charmingly, and had never hesitated to let him 
know that she cared more for him than for anyone else. 
Janice had been told by more than one of her friends 
that she would do well to look to her laurels, — ^keep 
both eyes on Bessie Wilson. 

When Bessie was bereft of both father and mother, 


JANICE 


7 


she had gone to an uncle in a distant city, who had 
opened his heart, home and purse to her ; and, as he had 
no child of his own, he had cared for Bessie and con- 
sidered her no burden. 

Janice was glad of the good fortune that came to her 
old schoolmate, and, it must be confessed, she was not 
at all sorry to have her taken so far away from Dick. 
She came back frequently however, for, as she said, 
the village had been her birthplace, and it held ties 
for her that could never be broken. 

John Neal was Dick^s very best friend. At school he 
had fought his battles for him and. seemed always to 
consider it his duty to watch over him. He too, had 
always loved Janice, but his fealty to his friend would 
not allow him to speak for himself, and he had retired 
from the field, and silently worshipped at a distance. 

He was only too glad to accommodate Dick by taking 
his sweetheart to the frolic. It would be such a wonder- 
ful pleasure to have her to himself for this one glad 
day. 

After Dick had unfolded to Janice his plans, there 
was silence between them for a few moments. Then she 
said, I will not go to the picnic at all. I really don^t 
care to go, and you will have Bessie with you and will 
not miss me. I am sure you will have a good time,” — 
little tremor in her voice betraying her wounded feel- 

This angered him greatly, and not stopping to weigh 
the consequences, he said hotly, You have always been 
unreasonably jealous of Bessie. You seem to want to 
make a complete monopoly of me. You are selfish and 
exacting. I guess it is well for me to learn this before 
it is too late. I am certain I could never live happily 
in bondage to one woman.” 

Without a word, she took his ring from her finger, 
passed it over the gate to him, went up the walk and into 
the house, shutting the door behind her. 


8 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE 11. 

At this Dick Wynne felt that he was an awfnlly 
abnsed man. He went home telling himself that it 
would be well to teach her a lesson right now. He 
wonld take Bessie to the picnic. 

He felt sure that Janice would go and he would 
frighten her into repentance of the way she had treated 
him by playing the devoted to her rival, and not until 
she pleaded for his forgiveness, would he return to her. 
She would then have learned that she could not rule 
him entirely, and things would run smoothly ever after. 

Poor Janice spent a sleepless night. The pretty 
ruflBes 6n her pillow were crushed by her restless tossing 
and wet with hot tears. This was the first shadow that 
had fallen upon her happy dream. 

Wednesday came, — a perfect May day, — filled with 
the melody of birds and sweet with the fragrance of 
Spring flowers. The sky was blue and cloudless. The 
young men in shining buggies, drawn by well-groomed 
horses, dashed about town; and the girls with flutter- 
ing hearts and bright ribbons, and baskets filled with 
dainties, were gathered up, and a merry crowd drove 
away to the river. 

Early in the morning a note came to Janice from 
John Neal, begging her to reconsider and go with him 
in his new buggy, promising her all sorts of a good 
time. She at len^h consented to go, determined to look 
her best, be the gayest of the gay, thereby showing Dick 
that he was not at all essential to her happiness. 

John came for her, a happy smile upon his good, kind 
face. 


JANICE 


9 


She wore her prettiest dress, a soft white muslin. 
She had made it especially for this occasion, and with 
the setting of each perfect stitch, had gone a sweet 
and loving thought of Dick. She wore pale pink 
ribbons with it, and pink gloves covered her dainty 
hands to keep prying eyes from noting the absence of his 
ring. Pretty dancing slippers peeped from beneath the 
hem of her dress, and a white straw hat, covered with 
apple-blossoms, shaded her brown eyes. 

John placed her in his buggy; the high-stepping 
horse dashed off down the road. The excitement and 
rapid drive brought a pretty flush to her cheeks, and, 
when they overtook Dick and Bessie, in a spirit of mis- 
chief they passed them, she waving a dainty handker- 
chief, that wafted to them the delicate odor of wood 
violets. 

Everyone will wonder that you are with me to-day, 
and I woiider at my good fortune in being allowed 
to bring you, too. I can’t see how Dick could ever 
have made up his mind to give you up to me. I would 
never have been so nice to him, I am sure,” declared 
John. 

He and Bessie have always been the best of friends, 
you know, and he wishes her visit to be a pleasant one,” 
she carelessly replied. 

John looked slyly from the corner of his eye to see if 
she was really as indifferent as she pretended about it, 
but she was looking the other way. 

They reached the river, Dick and Bessie coming up 
just behind them. 

The strains of a dreamy waltz floated out upon the 
soft May air. Dick’s arm was around Bessie’s slender 
waist, and with her blue eyes looking tenderly into his 
black ones, they joined the dance, each one the personi- 
fication of perfect content. John and Janice waltzed 
too, not a cloud upon the face of either. 

In the afternoon Dick and Bessie strolled off alone 


lO 


JANICE 


to the river. They sat upon a fallen, mossy log, beneath 
a crab-apple tree. In the branches above them, bees 
were swarming and droning as they sipped sweets from 
pink cups, and a tiny, brown bird was merrily singing 
his Spring song as he sat on a twig, with his head 
turned to one side, looking at them with bright eyes. 

would like you to tell me if one of those city 
chaps has laid siege to your heart and captured it, caus - 
ing you to forget me,^^ he said. 

I left my heart here with you, when I went away, 
as you know only too well, Dick. No, neither time nor 
distance can ever cause me to forget you. But if what 
I hear is true, it would be far better for me, if I had 
never known .you. I would be happier.^^ 

What can 3^ou have heard ? 

Why, that J anice Grey wears your ring, and that she 
will be your wife in the Autumn.^^ 

She did wear my ring, and there was an under- 
standing that she would be my wife in October, until 
fhe evening I met you and asked permission to bring 
you to this frolic. When I told her of it, she didnT 
like it; I lost my temper and accused her of being 
jealous of you, which is true. She gave me back my 
ring, left me standing at the gate, went into the house 
and slammed the door behind her. I want to punish 
her for the way she treated me. Will you wear the 
ring while you are here ? ” 

She was only too glad to do so. He took it from his 
vest pocket, held her white hand and slipped the hoop 
of gold with its lovely gem on her finger. Just as he 
did this, John Neal and Janice stepped into the path 
in front of them. They saw it all, turned and hastened 
away. 


JANICE 


II 


CHAPTEE III. 

John saw the look of pain and dismay on Janice^s 
face and he said : — Tell me all about it. I know now 
why I was allowed to have you with me to-day 

Don^t worry about it a moment, John. I did it all 
myself. Everything is over between us and it is better 
for us both that it is so. I know now that we could 
never be happy together.^^ 

He did not rejoice when told that all was at an end 
between them. He was so unselfish in his love for her 
that he only thought of her suffering. It never occurred 
to him that she was now free and that he might honor- 
ably woo and, it might be, win her for himself. He tried 
to console her, as they drove home in the evening, by 
telling her that the course of true love never had run 
smoothly that it was only a lovers’ quarrel; that 

such trials only made the hearts that truly loved, grow 
fonder,” etc. 

When he left her, he told her to go to rest and sleep 
and leave it to him, for he was going to see Dick and 
straighten it all out for her. 

* * 

The shadows were lengthening when Dick and Bessie 
rejoined the crowd on the river, and someone teasingly 
told him that Janice had gone with a handsomer man. 

Dick drove rapidly to town, left Bessie at the gate 
and went to his boarding-house and to bed without his 
supper. 

Janice retired early and from weariness fell asleep, 
but still in her dreaming she was wretched, for she 


12 JANICE 

heard wedding-bells ringing for Dick, and she was not 
to be the bride. 

Two weeks dragged miserably by without a kind or 
forgiving word from Dick, though she frequently saw 
him riding or walking with Bessie. Then she was told 
that her rival had gone home and Dick had gone with 
her. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

The June breezes fluttered the streamers of crepe that 
hung at the door of Janice Grey’s home, telling to the 
passer-by a story of bereavement and sorrow; within 
was the hush and silence that always enters with death, 
and the odors of flowers that are never forgotten. 
Without warning, the mother had been called to pass 
through the shadowed valley and Janice was alone in 
the world. 

In the darkened parlor, black-robed and heart-broken, 
her face as white as the roses in the hand of her dead, 
Dick found her. A great pity and love for her, such as 
he had never known before, filled his heart. His re- 
pentance was deep and sincere. 

Forgive me,” he said, as he took her hands and held 
them. Let me be with you in your great bereavement 
to try to comfort and help you to bear it. Forget all 
my cruel treatment and my life henceforth shall be spent 
in loving and caring for you.” 

H: ^ ^ ^ 

Six months later bells rang out for the wedding, and 
in the little Church on the hill, these two plighted their 
vows, — ^promised to love and live together till death 
divided them. 

After a short wedding trip, they came back to the 
village and settled down in the home, that had been 
hers all her life. 

More than two years have passed and a glance into 
their breakfast-room, shows them taking their coffee 


JANICE 13 

and cakes. Dick is the same handsome man; he has 
risen to prominence in his profession; is the leading 
man in his town. Prosperity dwells with him and 
Janice is a loving and helpful wife. She is even prettiej? 
now in her tasteful house-dress, with a flower in her 
hair that her husband has just put there, — than she 
was in her wedding-gown. Sorrow has not stood aloof 
from her. There are little garments so carefully folded 
away in a drawer up-stairs and an empty cradle, with 
an undisturbed pillow, stands in a corner. She has 
shed many bitter tears above a baby^s grave, but she still 
has Dick. She has been happy with him and she is 
fully conscious of life’s brightness and charm. 

Bessie, still Bessie Wilson, is again among her friends 
in the village. Dick had met her in the drug-store the 
afternoon fcfore, and they had had quite a lengthy 
chat and an ice together. She was gloriously beautiful 
he thought, and he was glad to see her again. 

She toyed with a pond lily and holding it up to him, 
she said that lilies were abundant at Gleason’s Pond 
and asked if he was too much afraid of his wife to take 
her to gather them, as he had in days of old. His face 
flushed, he hesitated a moment, for he knew it would not 
be exactly the proper thing to do. At length he said he 
would be delighted, and not at all afraid to take her 
if she wished it. He arranged it all in his mind in a 
moment. She was stopping with friends in the suburbs 
of the village, directly on the road to the Pond. Her 
friends were two old people, who seldom went from home 
and never gossiped. He could call there for her in 
his buggy, and no one need know of it. So he made an 
engagement with her for four o’clock the next afternoon. 

After leaving her, he thought of it in a more serious 
light; thought that one could do nothing in this village 
without someone finding out all about it, and decided 
that it would be best to tell his wife of his promise to 
take Bessie, and ask her to accompany them. He well 


14 


JANICE 


knew that she conld not do this, for her Missionary 
Society; of which she was president, was to meet with 
her at that very honr. He also knew that she would 
tell him plainly that married men should never go alone 
with old sweethearts gathering pond lilies. But he 
meant to go, — Bessie was almost as a sister to him, and 
he tried to believe that this old friendship would protect 
her from unpleasant remarks, if anyone chanced to meet 
them. 

As he left the breakfast-table, and gave his wife a 
parting kiss, he asked: Would you like to drive out 
to the Pond this afternoon, take a row and get some 
lilies? They say the flowers are abundant now,^^ — ^he 
didnT tell her who had said so, — I can spare the time 
to-day, donT know when I can have another afternoon 
off. Am awfully busy right now.^^ 

A glad light came instantly into her face. It is so 
nice for you to think of me in this way, Dick ; you know 
I would be delighted to go, we have so very few outings 
together these busy days ; but — ^^she added sorrowfully, 
I canT possibly go ; you know my Society meets with 
me at four o’clock. Can you not manage somehow to 
take me to-morrow?” 

I will try to arrange it,” he said and left the room, 
whistling. 

Should old acquaintance be forgot?” 


JANICE 


15 


CHAPTEE IV. 

At the appointed hour he took Bessie in his hnggy and 
drove out into the country. They had not gone far, 
when they saw John Neal coming leisurely along the 
road on his horse. They could not avoid meeting him; 
so Dick held up his head and asked where he had been 
and Bessie said Howdye-do/^and they passed on. 

John did not at all like the looks of things. He knew 
Dick was inclined to be weak and selfish and Bessie was 
imprudent, and had no liking for the woman who had 
taken Dick from her; and that she would be only too 
glad to make her unhappy. He felt that Janice was too 
good and true a wife to be treated any way but rightly. 
He determined to speak plainly to Dick the first oppor- 
tunity he got. 

A little farther on, they met old Mrs. Johnson, — 
^^Aunt Calline,^^ everyone called her. She was the 
Good Samaritan of the village. She nursed the 
sick, comforted the sorrowing and looked after the 
needy and friendless. She told them she had been to 
get a settin^ o^ turkey eggs to put under old spec^, and 
asked where in all creation they were going 
Luckily she didn^t wait for them to reply, but whipped 
up her old gray mare and jogged on to town. She didn^t 
like the looks of things any more than did John Neal, 
and she rode on, musing on the depravity of men in 
general and Dick Wynne in particular. She was present 
when he made his wailing entrance into this world; had 
put the first garment on his baby body; had corrected 
and given him good advice during his boyhood, and she 


i6 


JANICE 


meant to give him a little more of that same kind of 
advice the very next time she met him. 

While she was arriving at this determination, the ob- 
ject of her thoughts was driving along, trying to be in- 
terested in his companion's flippant talk, his conscience 
tugging away at him all the while. He began to feel 

awfully worried and told himself that he had a d 1 

of a time trying to get a little pleasure out of his 
strenuous life. 

His companion, noticing his look of discontent, asked 
if he was thinking of the raking over the coals he 
was going to get, if his wife learned of this trip to the 
Pond with her. He replied that he guessed he would 
manage somehow to live through a row, if there should 
be one. He decided to make the most of the present, 
brightened up and became as gay as if everything was 
fixed just to suit him. 

They reached the Pond and took seats in the pretty 
blue pleasure boat. The sunlight fell upon the water. 

The lake, bright rippling to the land, 

Swayed water-flowers to her white hand.^^ 

The cloud lifted from his face entirely. They gath- 
ered quantities of the cool, fragrant lilies, sang songs, 
laughed at pranks he had played at school; talked of 
the playing at love they had done till he had married. 
A pathetic little sigh escaped her at the mention of this ; 
there was a quiver about her red lips and a dropping 
of her prettily-fringed eyelids, that appealed to him. 
She declared that life was terribly disappointing, and 
asked if he had not found it so. 

Well, no,” he replied. I have gotten much more 
out of it than I deserve. Prosperty has come my way ; 
my ambitions have been reasonably gratified and I have 
a mighty good wife. The only complaint I have to make 
of her is that she is inclined to be a little jealous and 


JANICE 


ir 


exacting. Her trust in me is not altogether what I 
would like it to be. Now I would not care one cent, if 
she was here alone with John Neal, gathering lilies. He 
is such an old friend and I trust her implicitly 

Aunt Calline reached home, and placed the the sittin’ 
o’ turkey eggs” under old spec’, after removing the 
darning-gourd that the hen had been faithfully covering 
for three days. She donned a purple calico dress and her 
Sunday hat, and wended her way to the Society 
Meetin’.” 

Janice had adorned her rooms prettily with roses 
from her own garden, and jasmine from her porch lat- 
tice. In the dining-room, plates were piled high with 
tempting sandwiches and dainty cakes, and tea and 
punch stood ready for the refreshing of her guests. She 
was a cordial and charming hostess. 

She called the meeting to order and presided with 
grace and dignity. After business had been disposed of, 
she led the way to the dining-room and made everything 
so pleasant and informal, that everyone began to feel at 
home, and discuss the news of the village. 

One told of the baby that had come to the home of 
Dr. Jones after a married life of ten years; another of 
the rumored engagement of Bessie Wilson to a man of 
great wealth, who lived in a distant city and was old 
enough to be her grandfather. Miss Liza Smith, a sour 
old maid, who aways knew more than anyone else in 
town, and had the longest tongue with which to tell it, 
nudged her neighbor, and said in a tone too low to be 
heard by the crowd, but perfectly audible to Dick’s wife, 
who was standing just behind her : — If he wants her, 
he had better take her powerful soon, for I saw her and 
Dick Wynne not two hours ago driving out into the 
country in the drection of the lily-pond. From all I see 
and hear, there’s going to a mighty big scandal in this 


i8 JANICE 

part of the world before long, but the Lord knows I 
don^t want to be the one to start it/^ 

Then, straightening herself up in her chair, and fold- 
ing her arms within her well-worn plaid shawl, she 
awaited the effect of this thrust at her hostess. 


JANICE 


19 


CHAPTEE V. 

A DESPAIRING look Came into the face of Dick^s wife. 
Her hands trembled and she dropped her pretty com- 
pany plate, spilled its contents and broke it into many 
pieces. 

When the last guest had gone, she went into her room 
and flung herself upon her bed and buried her face in 
the pillow. 

Oh ! Dick/^ she sobbed, how could you treat me 
so ? I\e loved you so well and God knows Pve tried to be 
to you a good and faithful wife.^^ 

Then, woman-like, she tried to find an excuse for him. 
She told herself that men were not like women; they 
were of entirely different material ; and that in spirit, if 
not in letter, she knew he was true to her. As he had 
told her, he and Bessie were such old, old friends. If he 
had told her, when he asked her to go, that Bessie was 
going, she would not feel as she did. It was the secrecy 
about it, that she didnT like. The tear drops fell, one 
by one, and an ache took possession of her heart, greater 
than that which filled it when her mother died. She 
recalled the first cloud that overshadowed her happy way 
when, as lovers, she and Dick had stood at the gate in the 
moonlight and she had given him back his ring because 
he said she was jealous, selfish and exacting. He had 
told her then, he could never live happily in bondage to 
one woman.^^ Bessie was the cause of that trouble, just 
as she was of this. What should she do? She could 
never be happy any more if her faith in him was shat- 
tered; but perhaps Bessie had asked him to take her 
and neither of them thought it wrong, — they had 


20 


JANICE 


known each other so long. If that was the case, he 
would tell her all about it and perhaps bring her some 
flowers when he came to tea. This would make it all 
right with her, but she would tell him of the gossip of 
Miss Liza Smith and ask him for her sake, and his 
own, but more than all for the sake of the good name 
of the girl, to be more discreet in the future. 

So she tried to make it appear all right to herself. 
She finally remembered that she had allowed her only 
servant to go out for the evening, and she went to the 
dining-room and placed bread and butter, cakes and 
tea ready for her husband’s supper; then seated herself 
on the porch step to await his coming. 

The moon came up, full and round. Stars came out 
and twinkled and sparkled in the sky. Twilight dews 
fell softly upon the flowers, causing them to throw out 
all about her their intoxicatng fragrance; but neither 
the glory of the heavens, nor the odor of the flowers 
in any way appealed to her. She only realized that she 
was utterly wretched. Neighbor after neighbor passed 
along, homeward bound, but Dick’s familiar step came 
not. Several times in her impatience and restlessness, 
she walked to the gate and looked up the street, but he 
was not to be seen and she sat again on the step, deter- 
mined to look for him no more. 

Just then he lifted the gate latch and came briskly 
up the walk. He laid his hand upon her head and 
smoothed her hair gently. 

^^What! moping. Dearie?” he asked, ^^or are you 
sitting here in the moonlight, waiting in imagination for 
Dick, your sweetheart? Well, he has come in the shape 
of a very hungry man,” and he passed in and seated 
himself at the table. 

She followed, put ice and sugar in his tea; then sat 
down near him, hoping and half-way believing that he 
would tell her what she so much wished him to tell. 

I’m dead tired to-night. I’ve had a hard day,” he 


JANICE 


21 


remarked, as he looked down, balancing his spoon upon 
his tea-glass. I think I will turn the office over to John, 
and run off for a week^s rest. Pll go fishing, and get a 
good draught of fresh, country air. Suppose you go with 
me. A rest will do you good. You look wearied out 
to-night, — ^haveffit the least hint of a rose in your cheeks. 
You must try to keep your roses. Few husbands 
treasure a faded wife, as they did a faded flower that 
she gave him before marriage. What do you say about 
going?'" 

^^Why, that such a thing is out of the question. I 
have so many baby chickens to look after, and fruit is 
ripening and I must get busy and store up sweets for 
the coming Winter. I wish you would go, however, 
and in passing him to re-fill his glass, she brushed some- 
thing that looked mightily like the pollen of pond-lilies, 
from his coat. 

I want to tell you of something that I did to-day, 
Janice. I'm afraid you will not exactly approve of it, 
but you know we .sometimes just have to do things, — 
there is no getting around it." 

How mean she felt, as she looked into his honest 
eyes; she drew her chair nearer to hear him tell of the 
trip to the Pond with Bessie. How gladly she would tell 
him it was all right with her, and how much more he 
would love her, when he knew that she trusted him so 
completely. 

I met my old friend and college mate, Fred Disbro, 
to-day. You've often heard me speak of him. He is a 
fine old fellow, — I never loved and trusted another man 
(with the exception of John; I put him first always, of 
course,) as I did Fred. He has recently married, — quite 
a pretty woman his wife is, — he is overworked, and they 
are going through the country in an auto, hoping that 
he may regain his health and strength. He said he 
might possibly stop here for a few days on his return, 
and I have asked him to stop with us. I want him 


22 


JANICE 


to see the prize I so luckily have drawn. Can’t you find 
an extra servant to help with the work, while they are 
here?” 

Tears of bitter disappointment filled her eyes, and 
she looked down, and traced with a fork the flower on 
the damask table linen to hide them from him, and said 
not a W'ord. 

I’m sorry you do not approve of their coming, but 
don’t worry, — I’ll get out of it somehow,” he said, rather 
petulantly. 

Oh, I don’t at all mind it. Let them come by all 
means. I can get all the help I need. We want a little 
company now and then. We grow morbid, living so 
much to ourselves. I sometimes think we get a little 
tired of each other.” 

He gave her a quick glance, got up and left the room. 


JANICE 


23 


CHAPTEE VI. 

Aftee putting away the tea things, J anice joined hini 
on the porch. He lay in the hammock, with his eyes 
closed, — a fragrant cigar between his lips. She usually 
shared the hammock with him in the evening. He 
would smoke and tell her of his day's doings and any bit 
of news he had heard, that he thought would interest 
her. To-night she seated herself on the step, where she 
had awaited him earlier. He didn't ask her to come to 
him, but smoked in silence, wondering what could be 
the matter with her, sitting with her hand supporting 
her cheek and never uttering a word. 

After finshing his cigar, he got up, yawned and said : 
that he was too sleepy to be good company, so he thought 
he would retire. 

Janice sat for some time after he left her, pondering 
on the unhappy state of affairs. Her pride would not 
aMow her to reproach him; besides, reproaches, she had 
sense enough to know, would only drive him farther from 
her. She was glad he was going on his vacation, a 
separation she thought, was best for them both, just now. 
Perhaps absence would make his heart grow fonder." 
When at length she went to her room, she found the 
lamp turned low, and her husband apparently sleeping 
the sleep of the just. 

A few days later, Bessie dropped in to say good-bye. 
She was going to join friends up in the mountains for 
a two weeks' stay, before going home. Janice welcomed 
her in her usual cordial manner, and wished for her a 
safe and pleasant journey, as she told her farewell. She 
watched her through the gate as she left, noticing how 


24 


JANICE 


slender and full of grace she was, and how perfectly her 
exquisite and costly dress fitted her. 

Tell Dick good-bye for me,'' Bessie called back, as 
she went down the street, knowing at the same time, that 
his oflBce was to be her next stopping-place. Dick was ex- 
pecting her, had just sent John out on some flimsy pre- 
text, in order that he might be alone with her. 

He held out both of his hands to her, as she came in, — 
took hers and pressed them warmly. 

I hate to have you go," he told her, for you will 
carry away with you all the light and gladness of life for 
me, leaving me to the night. But for the cruelty of 
Fate" .... he began, and just then John stepped in. 
He passed her through the door, and, as he did so, 
said in an undertone, will be in the park at seven 
to say good-bye." 

After this good-bye was spoken, with the music of her 
voice yet ringing in his ear, and the fragrance of the 
violets that she wore still with him, he went home and 
took the seat opposite his wife at supper. 

The next day he got a letter from his friend, Disbro, 
saying that he had changed his plans and would not 
return that way. So he decided to take the rest he 
had promised himself, and made his arrangements for 
leaving home on the following Friday. There was a 
quiet litte resort twenty miles away. He had visited it 
several times, and found it quite a pleasant and restful 
place. The hotel, though small, was well kept, and in 
a stream near by fishing was fairly good. He knew that 
among the guests he was sure to find a congenial man 
to join him in the sport. The post-office was located in 
the hotel and he could gets news from home and post a 
letter to his wife without inconvenience. 

The afternoon before his departure, Janice got out 
his small traveling trunk and packed it, putting in every- 
thing that she thought he could possibly need or desire. 
His clothing was in perfect order. There was no need 


JANICE 


25 


of hunting buttons to replace missing ones^ or hastily 
sewing up holes in socks that should be properly darned. 
She was a model wife ; she had only to take his garments 
from his dresser and put them in his trunk. In one of 
his favorite books, that she knew he would turn to on 
a lonely or rainy day, she put a picture of herself. It 
was the first taken of her as a mother, and she held her 
baby in her arms. It was a pretty picture, taken just 
when she had reached the happiest period in her life. 
Dick had admired it greatly and had proudly given it 
a place on his desk, where it had remained until the 
death of the baby, when it had been put away out of 
sight, among other cherished mementoes of the little 
darling. 

This separation from her husband was no light affair 
to Janice. It was the first of more than a day or two^s 
duration, that had come to them, and she wanted him 
to think of her, while he was away, and she knew that 
this picture would appeal to him more strongly than 
anything else. 

When Dick kissed her good-bye, she tried heroically 
to keep back her tears, but in spite of the effort, they 
would come. She buried her face on his shoulder, and 
wept as if her heart would break. He held her close to 
him for a moment, promised to write frequently, kissed 
her and hurried away. 

She had learned that the best weapon with which to 
fight off loneliness, was employment. So she tied on a 
blue sunbonnet and taking a light hoe and rake, she 
went into her garden. 

This little garden was her pride, and had been her 
refuge in days gone by, when her heart was sad. She 
had expressed her character too, in the arrangement and 
planting of it. There were no gaudy or coarse flowers 
growing there, the border edgings were violets, forget- 
me-nots and sweet pinks. Mignonette and pale pink 
and white roses mingled their dainty fragrance with 
that of star jasmine and heliotrope. 


26 


JANICE 


She worked till she grew weary, then sat on a rustic 
bench under a tree near the gate to rest. She pushed 
back her bonnet and a few stray locks of damp, brown 
hair fell across her forehead. 

Her eyes still held the sad shadows that Dick^s de- 
parture had left in them. Altogether, it was a pathetic, 
as well as a pretty face that John Neal looked into as 
he came along the walk and took the seat that she offered 
him beside her. 


JANICE 


27. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

She laughingly told him that she was a widow; that 
she had made things at home so warm for her husband 
that he had run away and left her. 

John told her that before going, he had been more 
considerate than run-away husbands usually were, for 
he had left a liberal check for her on his desk; that he 
had found it after he left and had come to bring it to 
her. 

He chatted with her a half hour, — asked if she was 
to be entirely alone during Dick^s absence. She told him 
that her servant would remain at night with her; that 
she was perfectly trustworthy, and as she herself had 
never been nervous or easily frightened, she had no fear 
but that she would get along all right. 

As he left, he told her to be sure to call on him, if 
he could serve her in any way.^^ 

That evening, as he sat alone smoking, his thoughts 
strayed to her. What a true little woman she was, and 
how in spite of his determination to be loyal to his 
friend, in spite of his effort to put her out of his heart, 
he had to confess that she lingered on ^^Love crowned 
and garlanded.’^ In the long ago he had thought that 
she had made an ideal marriage, that she and Dick were 
created, the one for the other, they had seemed so happy 
together. This had in a measure reconciled him to his 
failure to win her for his own life companion ; but of late 
Dick, he thought, had changed in many ways. He was 
restless and irritable, was careless and indifferent in 
business matters ; and at times he had noticed signs of a 
too free indulgence in the cup that inebriates; and he 


28 


JANICE 


didn^t like the intimacy existing between him and Bessie 
Wilson. After all, he feared that her life was not to be 
the even, happy one, that he had hoped and anticipated 
for her. 

It looked selfish in Dick to go away, leaving her alone 
and unprotected. If she had been his wife, he would 
just have picked her up and carried her with him, and 
let everything else go ; and how clean and pure his every 
act and thought he would have kept for her dear sake ! 

So he sat and thought till a late hour. 

One evening at the end of a week after leaving home, 
Dick went into the post-office and got a letter from his 
wife. He read and put it in his pocket and strolled out 
upon the Hotel verandah. Someone was singing in the 
parlor a favorite song of his, Lovers Old Sweet Song.^^ 
The voice was marvellously clear, and he thought it 
held a familiar tone. 

He stepped to the window and looked in and to his 
surprise, and, it must be confessed, to his pleasure too, he 
recognized Bessie Wilson in the singer. He went in and 
joined her in the song and later on was her partner 
in the dance. 

She told him that the friends she had gone to visit 
up in the mountains grew tired of the solitude, came 
down to the Hotel and brought her with them. She was 
greatly pleased to find him there and asked why his wife 
was not with him. 

She remained at home to feed the chickens and 
store up sweets for the Winter,^^ he told her. 

They planned fishing trips and rides to various points 
of interest and it was quite late when they said good- 
night and separated. 

Before sleeping, Dick read his wife’s letter again. It 
was not lengthy, but each line betrayed the thoughtful 
love of a good wife. Take care of yourself,” she wrote, 


JANICE 


29 


don^t weary yourself with too much tramping during 
the day. Go to sleep with the birds and come home 
perfectly rested.^^ 

He sat awhile, thinking of her; of her untiring min- 
istrations to him, of her fidelity and affection, and then 
he thought of Bessie. How strange it seemed that she 
should come so often and unexpectedly into his life. It 
really looked as if the hand of fate was concerned in it. 

He was tired, but he replied to his wife^s letter before 
retiring. He and Bessie were going for an early ride 
in the morning and at a later hour were to have a game 
of tennis. After that he might not feel like writing, — 
would perhaps be tired. 

He didn^t tell her of his meeting with Bessie. 

Women are such curious creatures. No power on 
earth could convince that wife of mine that our meeting 
here was not a fixed-up job,^^ he thought as he finished 
and sealed his letter. 

He was up quite early next morning. The horses 
he had ordered were in readiness, and just as he put 
Bessie^s foot in the stirrup, the mail-carrier drove up 
in his mud-bespattered buggy, for the mail he was to 
carry to Dick^s home village. He asked if Dick wished 
to send a message to his wife, and gave him an insinuat- 
ing wink, as he and Bessie rode off. He put the mail- 
sack in his buggy and drove away. 

Late that afternoon Janice was standing at her gate, 
when he came along. He inquired after her health and 
wanted to know why she hadn^t gone ^^a fishin^ with 
Dick.^^ 

^^Ef you^d a seed him a-dancin’ the Ferginny reel 
with that purty Wilson gal last night, and a-ridin’ off 
with her bright and early this morning youM wish you 
had,^^ and, with a loud laugh at the joke, as he thought 
it, he drove on. 

Janice went to the office and got Dick^s letter. It 
was quite an affectionate affair. He had missed his 


30 


JANICE 


darling more than words could express/^ and he didn^t 
think it would be possible for him to remain away from 
her as long as he had intended when he left her. He 
begged her to be careful of her health for his sake and 
signed himself ^Vith a heart over-flowing with love, 
ever and forever yours only, Dick/^ There was no in- 
timation of Bessie^s presence. 

Janice left her tea untasted that evening, retired early 
and cried herself to sleep. 


JANICE 


31 


iCHAPTEE VIIL 

The next letter from Dick told Janice that the trip 
was benefiting him greatly. He felt like another man, 
and if she was all right and there was nothing in his 
business demanding his return, he thought he would 
remain away a week longer. 

The reply he got was Stay by all means.^^ It came 
to him on a dismal day. The rain was falling in 
torrents. The drops were dashed furiously against the 
window-panes by the wind, that was never weary He 
was sitting by the table in his room, and after reading 
and putting it in his pocket, he opened the book, that his 
wife had packed for his entertainment on just such a 
day, and her picture fell out. 

He looked at it, and a pang of reproach and self- 
contempt touched him. Her eyes, so full of sincerity, 
seemed to plead with him for his return to her. He 
decided that he had wasted time enough here, and his 
conscience told him that duty called him home. He de- 
termined to do what he knew to be the right thing ; got 
up and immediately began packing his trunk. He had 
almost finished, when the swish of a woman^s silken 
skirt and the patter of slippered feet, attracted his at- 
tention. There was a light tap on his door, and Bessie 
in^ pleading tones, begged him to take pity on her, and 
join her in a game of billiards. 

He went down and found her standing forlornly by 
the window. He stood beside her, and for a time they 
;watched the storm raging so mercilessly without. He 
took her hand, turned the costly ring on her finger that 


32 


JANICE 


the old millionaire had given her and told her how 
wondronsly well a pretty ring became a pretty hand. 
He also told her that he was going home on the morrow, 
and asked if she would miss him. 

She covered her face with both hands and sobbed. 

Miss you ? she exclaimed. How can you ask me 
that? You know that there is not a single moment, 
when I am absent from you, that I do not miss you. 
How can I ever go back to a life without you, after these 
blissful days that I have spent with you? I have tried 
to forget that you had another tie. Vyq tried to per- 
suade myself that every throb of your heart was for me, 
as mine are all for you. Let this last gleam of happiness 
abide with me a little longer. Dick, don^t go just yet.^^ 

He took her handkerchief and wiped away her tears, 
replaced a wisp of her golden hair that had become 
disarranged and just then the door was opened and a 
. servant came in to light the room. 

He led her to the billiard table, gave her a cue, rolled 
the balls together and they began the game. When he 
returned to his room he unpacked his trunk. He had 
decided to remain longer. 

When his wife learned that his stay was to be pro- 
longed, she gave up and went to bed. The constant 
worry and sleepless nights had done their work and she 
found herself really ill. 

The next day was Sunday. She let her servant off 
for the day, closed the house and in her loneliness and 
desolation she was a forlorn object to behold. 

^^What a dandy mornin’, the whole big world looks 
like it^s brimful and a runnin’ over with joy,^^ exclaimed 
Aunt Calline, as she went to the cowpen with a bucket 
of peas and bran for Brindle, the sleek, fat cow standing 


JANICE 


33 


at the. fence chewing her cud, while she waited for her 
breakfast. Aunt Calline said she never did things by 
halves. When she fed her cow, she fed her all she needed, 
and Brindle gave to her mistress in the same generous 
way. 

The old lady took her seat on the milking-stool and 
her pail was soon full to overflowing with rich, yellow 
milk. She went back to the house, singing in a squeaky 
voice. 

^^How firm a foundation 
^^Ye Saints of the Lord,^^ 

a happy old soul, striving day by day to do her duty to 
her God and her neighbor. 

As she strained the milk into the bright tin pan, the 
gate-latch clicked and Sammy Eoberts, a freckled face, 
red-headed boy, came slowly up the walk. 

Howdye-do, Sammy. Come right in and have 
breakfast with me,^^ she said cordially. Sammy had his 
toe tied up in a pink calico rag. He limped into the 
kitchen and sat down upon a kindling-box in the corner, 

A fat yellow kitten got up and rubbed herself lazily 
against his legs. A pot of corn meal mush was cooking 
on the hearth, a big iron spoon lying across the top, 
handy for stirring it. The old lady busied around, 
grinding coffee and slicing bacon for the meal. 

Sammy was hungry. He had not broken his fast that 
morning. He took the spoon from the top of the pot 
and began eating the mush greedily. 

Are you a-goin’ to set thar, and eat up all of old 
Uncle Moses^ poultice, son ? asked Aunt Calline. 

The spoon dropped instantly into the pot, scattering 
its contents in all directions. The kitten got a share and 
hoisted her back and scampered out into the yard. A 
good portion fell on the boy^s foot and he hastily brushed 
it off with one hand, while he emptied the contents of 
his mouth into the other. 


34 


JANICE 


Oh, you can eat it, Sam, — if s plum’ clean, hain’t 
never been used. I’m goin’ to take it to the poor suffer- 
in’ old man, when we get through with breakfast.” 

She placed the bacon and eggs and hot muffin 
bread ” on the table, and after a fervent Good Lord, 
make us thankful,” she filled Sammy’s plate and told 
him to eat and eat a plenty.” 

As she cleared away the empty dishes, she told him he 
had better run along home and get ready for Sunday 
School. 

I don’t reckon I’ll go to-day,” he said. We’ve got 
so much trouble at our house.” 

Got trouble, have you? Well, it ’pears to me like 
that is the very time you want to serve and stick to the 
Lord, for it shorely is the time you need Him to stand 
by you. What kind of trouble has you-ens got ? ” 

Why, hain’t you heered that Pa is busted. Aunt Cal- 
line ? ” 

Busted ! Land alive ! What busted him, Sam ? ” 
don’t know. I just heered him tell Ma it was 
a-doing by his neighbor as he would want his neighbor to 
do by him.” 

^^Well, ef that’s what busted him, the Good Lord’ll 
patch him up all right agin soon,” she affirmed, as she 
drew on her home-knit gloves, took up the bucket of 
mush and went out of the house. 

She delivered the poultice for Uncle Moses’ hand, 
guaranteeing it to draw out the last spec’ of informa- 
tion,” then went on home with Sammy. His mother 
met them at the door, with a fretting baby in her arms, 
and two little girls, with a troubled look in their pretty 
blue eyes, following her. 


JANICE 


35 


CHAPTEE IX. 

Good-mobniisj , Sallie. Hope you are feelin^ fine and 
dandy this nice day/^ she said cheerfully. 

Oh, Aunt Calline, haven^t you heard of our trouble, 
— ^how we\e lost all we^ve saved up by stinting and doing 
without? We\e worked mighty hard, and just as we 
thought we had enough laid by to send the children to 
school looking like other children, and we felt like we 
could take life a little easier, it has all been taken from 
us and what we will do, I caht see.^^ 

Why ef you made that, you kin jist git bizzy again, 
and make more, cah you, Sally? W^ere^s Jim?^^ 

He is in bed. Says he hasht the heart to get up.’^ 
Is he asleep ? 

Law, no ! He^s too worried to sleep or rest.” 

^MVell, in my opinion, heM better git up and look 
about him and try to fix things up. I^ih in bed and 
kiverih up the head, never yit mended a busted concern. 
Had his breakfast ? ” 

No, he said he couldht eat a bite.” 

Land alive ! Pd like to know what kind of a tussle 
he expects to make with trouble on an empty stomach.” 

She pulled off her gloves and tucked up her skirt and 
went to the kitchen and beat up a bowl of flap- jack ” 
batter, and made a pot of coffee and told the little girls 
.to set the table for breakfast. She called to Jim to get 
up and come out and ^‘^look at the sunshine the Good 
Lord was a sendin^ down upon this beautiful world, for 
*His creeturs to enjoy.” 

Jim soon came out. He was a frail looking man, the 
lines in his face and stains of toil on his hands, telling 


36 


JANICE 


of the struggle he had made to earn an honest living for 
his family. He joined his wife at the table. Aunt 
Calline brought hot, buttered flap-jacks and poured 
the coffee, chatting pleasantly all the while. 

The meal finished, she asked if the children were going 
to Sunday School. 

I guess not. It is late, and they are not dressed, 
said the mother. 

ril fix ^em. Come on Sarah and Mattie ; let git 
your Sunday finery on in a jiffy. Fetch the comb,^^ and 
without regard to the frowns on the little faces, she 
pulled and combed and plaited the soft, silky hair and 
tied on the ribbons. 

Put up your foot, Sarah ; wefil have to shine up your 
shoes a bit,” and she took a bottle from the shelf. 

There ain’t a drop o’ polish here, child.” 

ISTo, I used the last on baby’s shoes,” said Mrs. 
Eoberts. 

Got any ’namolene ? ” asked the old lady and she 
bustled off to the kitchen and returned with a box of 
enameline and vigorously polished the half-worn shoes; 
then told the children to run along to Sunday School 
and thank God they were livin’. 

How set down, Jim and tell me all about it. Light 
you pipe. A man in trouble wants his pipe.” 

Jim smoked and between puffs told her just how bad 
it was. He had aided a friend in his difficulties by en- 
dorsing notes for him, and his friend had gone back on 
him by running away and leaving the debt for Jim to 
pay. To do this, he would have to let his shop go and 
then he didn’t know where to turn. 

How much money will you need to fix it all up ? ” 
she asked. 

He told her that with what he had already, that - he 
had saved up, he guessed about Seven Hundred Dollars. 

I’ve got that much that I hain’t got a spec’ of use 
for. I’ll lend it to you and when you git on your feet 


JANICE 


37 


again, you can pay it back. I ain^t a bit afeared of you. 
Your word is as good as your bond, if not a leetle bit bet- 
ter. Cheer up ! You\e got a heap to be thankful for. 
YouVe got a whole lot left, — a wife^s that^s a sight too 
good for you — and your children. Kerens Sam, (as he 
came around the house,) as fine a boy as lives.^^ 

Sam, seeing the cheerful air things were taking on, 
forgot his stubbed toe, skipped around and said he was 
thankful he had his billy-goat left. 

Aunt Calline didn’t get to Sunday School that morn- 
ing, but she brushed up and went to preaching. She 
had her own particular seat in the Amen corner, where 
she could hear all the preacher said and see everybody 
come in. On this occasion, when she went in, she nodded 
to several friends, seated herself, put do^vn her parasol 
and opened her Gospel Hymns,” and when old Brother 
Driscoll began to sing in a pitch so high that few in 
the congregation could reach ^^Will there be any stars 
in my crown?” she joined in and got right to the top 
with the good old man. 

After the benediction, she went into the Church-yard 
to the grave of her lamented husband, who (the stone at 
his head said) had departed this life full of faith, leav- 
ing behind a loving wife to mourn his loss. All of this 
was true. 

John Neal strolled out and joined her. 


38 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE X. 

They discussed the sermon they had just heard, and 
spoke of the need of rain. 

Aunt Calline seated herself on a bench she had placed 
near by to rest on, while she meditated on the many 
virtues of the dear departed. She asked John to sit 
by her, for she wanted to speak confidentially to him 
about something that had worried her no little. 

He took out his knife and began cutting on a twig 
that he had picked up and told her to proceed to state 
her cause for worry. 

Do you know whar Dick Wynne is ? she asked. 

He told her where he was. 

‘^^Yes,^^ she said, ^^he is thar, and he ain^t thar by 
hisself nuther. He is thar a-galavantin^ with that thar 
Wilson gal, a-dancin^ and a-gallopin^ all over the country 
with her, while that poor little wife of his^n is at home 
all by herself a-grievin^ and a-troublin’ about him. 
YouVe alius been a good friend to him, and Pve been 
one too, till here lately. I hope you won^t fall out with 
me, if I speak a little bit plain to you, now John. You 
know Pm a plain-speakin^ old woman. I know you used 
to love Janice yourself and moreover I know that you 
love her yit, for true love is as enduring as that moun- 
tain a-standin^ out yonder. Like that mountain too, it 
sometimes throws a mighty long shadder over a man^s 
life but it stays right thar all the same. I wish you 
had a-married her, for you would a-had enough good 
sense to have knowed her worth. I love her too, and 
long years ago, I promsed her Ma that if I lived after she 
had died, — would look after her jist like she was my 


JANICE 39 

own child, and I can^t remember the time, w^hen I for- 
got or failed to keep a promise as sacred as one made to 
the dead. Ef somebody don’t interfere and help her to 
straighten things out, she’s a-goin’ to have a lot of bad 
trouble, and I don’t know any two people in the world, 
that have got a better right to do this, than you and me, 
and 1 want to know what you think we’d better do about 
it.” 

John acknowledged that he had been worried about 
the conditions also, but said it was a delicate matter 
to meddle with, and he hardly knew what to suggest. 
He told her to drop in on Janice that afternoon, and 
try to cheer her up a bit, and he would think the matter 
over and see what they could do. 

The old lady left John whittling and went home. 
She put fresh water in the chicken trough, fed her 
cats, and took a slice of bread and butter and a glass 
of cool buttermilk herself. She then lay down on her 
couch and pulled a light patch-work quilt, (she called 
it ^^The Lone Stair of Texas”) over her feet and shut 
her eyes. 

She was not asleep every time her eyes were shut, 
she often said. The most of the time she was a-ponder- 
in’,” and she was a-ponderin’ right now.” 

After an hour’s rest, she slicked her hair,” closed 
her door and went down to Dick Wynne’s house. She 
knocked at the front door, but no one came, so she 
went around to the back and called Janice, who told 
her, with her voice full of tears, to come in. 

I didn’t see you at meetin’ to-day. I knowed Dick 
was gone and I thought mebby you was sick, so I come 
to see about you,” the old lady said, as she entered the 
darkened room. 

Poor Janice had reached the point in her trouble, 
when she had to tell it to someone, and get sympathy 
somewhere. Aunt Calline was the one above all others, 
that she felt willing to confide in. She knew she would 


40 


JANICE 


get all the sympathy she needed from her and she iold 
her the whole sad story. 

Aunt Calline drew her chair close to the bed, and 
took one of Janice^s little hands in a caressing, motherly 
way. Then she asked : What are you going to do 

about it Honey? Air you jest agwyne to lie id this 
here bed and cry and when Dick comes home^ have 
him contrasting your red eyes and washed out face 
with that Wilson gaFs purty blue eyes and peach- 
blossom cheeks? What do you think you^ll gain by 
that ? 

In her heart she thought Dick the very meanest man 
that the Good Lord allowed to live, but she knew she 
would not mend matters by telling this to his wife. 
So she said he was just like a lot of other good men, 
having a good time without meaning to do wrong, and 
not knowing how she felt about it. 

Folks is powerful curious creeturs, — women as well 
as men. They donT alius mean to lie and do wrong, 
when they air a-doin^ both. Now I got a message not 
long ago from Lindy Green. She lives out in the 
naberhood of that little Baptist Church, — Hominy 
Grove they call it. The folks livin^ out thar air all 
hard workers and God fearin^, and them kind alius 
prospers. They have big farms and dairies. They air 
sorter arstercratic too, — try to keep right alongside town 
folks. They heered o^ the rummage sale we-uns had 
last year, when we made money enough to finish payin^ 
for our Church organ, and they concluded to rummage 
round and see if they could make enough to paint 
up their Church. This message I got from Lindy was 
to let me know about it, and to ax me to go out and 
carry some of my friends and a bundle o^ rummage, if 
I felt disposed to help ^em. I got several of the gals 
to promise to go along with me and then I looked about 
the house to see ef I could find anything anybody would 
want. I had a pair o^ pillow shams, worked in turkey 


JANICE 


41 


red, with ^ Good-night ^ on one of ^em and ^ Pleasant 
Dreams^ on Pother. They was real nice, but I never 
did care for shams. I tuck them, and then I thought of 
Josiah^s trunk a-settin^ in the back room, and I opened 
it, and got out his old brown hat and striped weskit. 

You know these garmints, that have been worn 
day by day by our folks, that have gone away from us,. 
never to come back, — clothes that we have cried over 
and folded keerfully away, bring ^em back to our mind’s 
eye, when we unfold and bring ’em out to the light 
agin. Well, I could see Josiah jest as plain going to the 
barn with a basket 0’ corn on his arm, a-callin’ ^Pig- 
gee, piggie ! ’ with that yaller weskit on and that hat 
pulled down over his eyes to keep the wind outen ’em. 
I couldn’t begin to keep the tears outen mine, when I 
looked at these things, that jest seemed to be a part of my 
dear old man, but I know’d he had on all the garmints 
he’d ever need, and I thought that mebby they would 
do some other old man some good, so I tuck ’em along. 
When we got out to the storehouse, whar the sale was 
to be, we found Miss Liza Eoberson. She’s the president 
of the ^ Young Helpers ’, and takes a sight of intrust 
in the Church work, and little Nettie Bell, a powerful 
little mite of a gal, but a mighty worker in the vine- 
yard of the Lord, and Sallie Gilmer. She’s the oldest gal 
in the Church, countin’ her years but the youngest one 
in the way she dresses and sprys around. I heered 
somebody say that day at the sale that she made a 
dead set at and almost tormented the life outen every 
paster that had ever been called to lead the flock, that 
didn’t already have a wife to torment him. I didn’t be- 
lieve all of that, but I did see her a-settin’ on the 
front bench, looking up at Brother Watts, — ^he’s the 
present paster, and lost his wife about three months ago, 
— a-singin’ as loud as she could holler, 

^ All along my pilgrim journey 

^ Only let me walk with Thee.’ 


42 


JANICE 


There was a whole lot more folks thar, and sech a 
lot 0^ things to sell you never did see got together I 
reckon. There was old saddles and coffee mills and 
strings o^ red pepper and dried sage and pop-corn and 
odd cups and sassers and baby caps, and parasols, and 
turn-over collars and the Good Lord only knows what 
else. 

Them gals was a-holdin^ up the old cast-offs, 
a-praisin^ ^em, tellin^ how useful and fine they was, and 
what bargains, tryin^ to persuade folks to buy ^em. One 
of ^em sot a little red hat about as big as a plate on top 
o^ my head, and helt up her hands and ^ Oh, my^d,^ and 
said it was shorely the becominest thing I ever had on 
in all my life. I went to a lookin^ glass to see what I 
looked like, and I looked like a plum fool. While I 
was a-lookin^ at and a-pityin^ myself, another gal came 
along and wanted to sell me a red satin dress to wear 
with it. I got mad at fust to think they tuck me for 
sech a senseless old creetur, and then I thought how I 
would look a-settin^ up in my Amen corner at church in 
that rig, and I got tickled and in a good humor. 

I got rid of the gals by buying some of the red 
pepper and sage for sausage meat, and a red flowered 
poke to tote my knittin^ in. Now you know them gals 
knowM how look in that old finery and was 
a-laughin^ at me all the time they was a-tryin^ to fool me 
into buyin^ it. They was a-lyin^ and a-tryin^ to deceive 
me, but they didn^t think of it in that way. What 
they was a-doiifi, they thought was all right, for they 
was a-doin^ it for righteousness^ sake. 

Now, it looks to you as if Dick is off yonder 
a-treatin^ you mighty mean, but he don^t intend to do 
wrong. He loves you jest like he alius did, and you 
ean mighty soon open his eyes and make him see how 
it raly is, by jest givin^ him a dose of his own medicine. 
Primp up and look pretty; get out and flirt a bit your- 
self, and I guarantee that will bring him right squar^ 
to his senses.^^ 


JANICE 


43 


Oh ! Aunt Calline, how could I ever do such a 
thing? I would lose all of Dick’s respect, as well 
as his love and get myself talked about.” 

^^Law! Who’s a-goin’ to dare to talk about you. 
Honey? Don’t everybody in this town know that 
you are as pure and spotless as an angel in Heaven, 
and Dick shorely wouldn’t be mean enough to fall out 
with you for doin’ the very thing that he is a-doin’ him- 
self. Be a sensible woman. Take hold o’ things and 
straighten ’em out, and keep your husband from goin’ 
to the old scratch, ef you can.” 

Don’t quarrel and nag at him, when he comes back. 
Fussin’ with a man, only makes him wuss. I had a 
good man; leastways he was good as the average. We 
had the happiest home on the face of the yearth. 
Josiah wasn’t one o’ the kissin’ kind. They are the 
very ones to keep your eye on, but he toted in the wood 
and water, and was a good provider. We never had 
but one little spat, endurin’ the whole thirty years we 
boarded together. I’d been a-washin’ and a-scrubbin’ 
one day, and was plum tuckered out. I got a short sup- 
per, and washed up the kitchen things, and went into 
our room and got the Bible and sot down in my big 
cheer, all ready to read my chapter. We read a chapter 
in the Good Book every night before we went to bed. 
Josiah would read one night and I would read the 
next, — and to-night was mine. I axed if thar was any 
particular chapter he would like me to read, and he never 
answered a word. I axed him agin, and he didn’t speak, 
but jest sot thar a-readin’ the newspaper like he didn’t 
care ef he never agin read anything any better than 
that paper. I got up and tip-toed around behind him, 
and looked over his shoulder to see what was a-absorbin’ 
him so, and, bless your life, it was a big scandal. A 
preacher had run off with another man’s wife, and left 
his own and four little children to hustle fer themselves. 
I don’t think it does a man a spec’ o’ good to read sech 


44 


JANICE 


trash, and I didn^t want Josiah to read it, ^specially 
when he Speared to take sech an intrust in it. I went 
back to my cheer and sot down and commenced to ax 
him all sorts o^ questions. I axed him if the turnips was 
a-comin^ up behind the barn, and if Davy White had 
ever paid him for the spotted yearlin^ he sold him 
three year back, and whar he was a-goin^ to bank the 
taters when he dug ^em, and a whole lot more questions. 
He would hold his finger on the line he was readin^ 
and look up at me, and spit in the fire, and turn back 
agin to the paper. After a while he got sorter rattled, 
and said powerful short for him : Old woman, I wish 
ter goodness you^d shet up, or go to bed ; one or toother. 

I did shet up, and I rocked mighty lively for a 
minit, fer a woman, whoM been a-washin^ and a-scrub- 
bin^ all day. I laid my head back, and shot my eyes, 
and all of a sudden a thought struck me, and I jumped 
up and went to bed and left him to kiver up the fire. 
You see, I knowed if thar was one thing he did hate to 
do, it was to bank the fire. When he come to bed, he 
looked over at me and said : ^ Old lady, don^t you fiow to 
go to sleep to-night ? I see you\e gone to bed with your 
specks on.^ I was in sech a hurry to git to bed, I had 
fergot to pull ^em off. I didn^t say a word to him, but 
turned over and tuck all the kiver I could carry along 
with me. The next mornin^ I hunted up that paper, and 
after I read it myself, I laid it over behind the fire. 
That was our first and last scrimmage. 

‘^^Well, Honey, ifs gittin^ late. I must go home and 
milk Brindle, and git ready fer night meetin’ and you 
must git up and go out fer a little fresh air and exercise; 
and when Dick comes home, jest give him a dose out 
of his own bottle, and let me know how it serves him, 
and ef I can help you in any way , , , 

' The old lady bowed herself out with a reassuring nod. 


JANICE 


45 


CHAPTER XL 

Janice changed her wrapper for a fresh white dress^ 
gathered a basket of flowers and started to the cemetery, 

John Neal was standing on the street and when she 
came np to him, he took the basket and said he would 
go with her, if she didn^t object. 

He watched her place the roses on the little mound 
that held so many of her broken hopes, and so much 
of her mother love. 

On their return he stopped awhile. The house was 
unlighted. It looked empty and lonely and her face 
was full of sadness. He felt awfully sorry for her ; and 
nothing would have given him more genuine satisfaction 
right then, than to have been able to tell Dick Wynne 
just what he thought of him. 

I had a letter from your husband last evening,^^ he 
said. He writes that he will be away a week longer. 
He asked me to drop in and see if you were all right. 
Sister Edith has been wanting me to bring her around 
for several evenings to sit with you. If you have noth- 
ing better to do, suppose I bring her to-morrow evening. 
She has a lot of new music. She can bring it and we 
can learn some of the songs to sing for our truant, 
when he returns. I have several new books too. I have 
looked over them, and one or two of them promises to 
be right good. I will let you have them, if you wish to 
read them.^^ 

^^That will be fine. Now, don’t disappoint me to- 
morrow evening. I shall certainly expect you,” and she 
smiled as he went away, and she thought of Aunt Cal- 
line’s advice. She had already taken a walk with John 
and made an engagement with him for a call. 


46 


JANICE 


Toward the end of the week, she got a letter, telling 
her to expect her husband home on Tuesday of the next 
w^eek. 

There was quite a crowd of the young folks going on 
horseback to some mineral springs six miles from town 
on that afternoon, and she had promised to chaperone 
them. Dick would come with the mail-carrier, and it 
was usually late, when he came in, and she thought she 
could get back by the time Dick reached home. So she 
kept her promise and went, and John was her escort. 

When Dick came, which was earlier than usual, for 
Jesse Morgan, and Jim, his old gray horse, had not had 
much mail to deliver on the route, and had made better 
time ; instead of finding a pretty wife, eager to welcome 
him after a month^s absence, he found the front door 
closed and locked. 

He went around to the kitchen, where the cook, with 
her skirts tucked up, was scrubbing the floor, and sing- 
ing at the top of her voice : 

^^Whar you gwynne to hide, when the Lord comes 
down ? 

She told him that his wife had gone off to the Springs 
with Mr. John; that it was a good thing he had come 
home, for that man had almost been a-livin’ thar, while 
he had been gone. 

He wondered what she meant, as he went into bis 
room. He looked suspiciously at a vase of city-bred 
carnations on the dressing-table. He threw his hat on 
the bed, his umbrella on the floor, and kicked over his 
wife^s wicker work-table, scattering thread, thimble and 
scissors in all directions. 

Janice^s blue morning sacque was hanging on a chair, 
and one of her little slippers, with a hole in the toe, 
peeped out at him from under the side of the bed. He 
kicked it out of sight, and he swore a little. 

He washed his face, brushed his hair, put on a clean 
collar and went to his office. Just as he reached it, he 


JANICE 


47 


saw the crowd returning from the Springs. He stopped 
on the step to await them, but his wife was not with 
them, — coming up ten minutes later. Her saddle-girth 
had loosened, she had stopped for John to tighten it, 
and the crowd had left them. 

He had never seen her look prettier or happier. The 
blue habit that she wore, — he noticed it was a new one, 
— her jaunty cap, her well-fitting gloves and pretty rid- 
ing whip ; the rosy flush in her cheeks and brightness in 
her eyes, made of her a picture well worth looking at. 

She gave him a careless greeting ; said she supposed he 
would be home to supper, and that she would have 
John remain and share it with them, — and then she 
left him. 

Wlien he reached home, he found John making him- 
self very much at home in the hammock, and his wife, 
in a girlish muslin dress, with one of those city-bred 
carnations in her hair, standing by him. 

He went into the house, expecting her to follow and 
give him the welcoming kiss he had a right to expect, 
but she didn^t follow and he returned to the porch. 

Janice was a good housekeeper. The silver, china 
and glass on the tea-table this evening were brightly 
polished, and the bill-of-fare comprised a variety of 
dainty and well-prepared dishes; but Dick was a sullen 
and sombre host at his own board. 

Neither his guest nor his wife appeared to notice it, 
however, but chatted and laughed in a manner that 
was quite exasperating to him. The meal finished, he 
went back to the porch, lighted a cigar and paced rest- 
lessly back and forth across the floor. 

His wife went into the parlor, and John joined her 
at the piano. She played well and looking through the 
half-turned blinds, he watched them, as they sang to- 
gether : 


Tell me that you love me once again.^^ 


48 


JANICE 


He grew furiouS;, angry with the man, and angrier 
with his wife. He threw away his half-smoked cigar, 
thinking he would go in and put a stop to that sicken- 
ing love song.^^ She had no business to be singing it with 
any man. 

All at once, it occurred to him that he had sung 
the same song with Bessie Wilson the afternoon he 
carried her to gather pond-lilies, and he recalled that on 
that occasion he had declared that his faith in his wife 
was perfect, that he would trust her anywhere, with 
anyone. 

The song ended. J ohn said Good-night and went 
away. Janice watched him down the walk and through 
the gate, as she sat on the door-mat. 

Dick was the first to break the silence, when he said : 
^^How did you spend your time while I was away, 
J anice, and did you miss me ? 

I found the home rather empty and lonely the first 
few days, and the evenings were a little long, but John 
and Edith took pity on me, and came to the rescue. We 
learned several new songs, and John read aloud two 
nr three exceptionally good books. He is a delightful 
reader. His tone is low and soothing and he reads 
with so much expression. We played crokinole, (he had 
often heard her say she detested the game) took rides 
and last night went out to Gleason^s Pond for a row. 
WasnT the moon glorious at eleven o^clock? We found 
and gathered a few lilies.^^ 

He suddenly sat up and said : You surely didnT go 
rowing alone with that man at night, did you, Janice ? 

^^We were not eactly alone. Joe Graham and Edith 
drove out with us, and took a boat and went to the 
upper end of the Pond. John and I anchored, and gath- 
ered the few lilies I have told you we found. We sang 
a little, — doesnT John sing well? Being alone with 
a man, not my husband, under such romantic conditions, 
made me feel almost a girl again. You donT care for 


JANICE 


49 


me going with John, do you dear? You know we are 
such old, old friends ? she asked, as he strode into the 
house without replying. 

He went to his room and sat down by the window, 
putting his feet up on the sill. 

‘^^This thing is getting salty,^^ he soliloquized. 
know she^s all right, but there are always gossips around, 
and I don^t care to have my wife talked about in a dis- 
agreeable way. John is a good enough fellow, I reckon, 
but I didn^t know how blamed good-looking he was, 
till to-night. These serious looking men with dreamy 
eyes, who sing sentimental songs, are just the men to 
win the love of women. I don^t think John acted ex- 
actly right in taking my wife to that Pond last night, 
especially as I was away .... (at the hour of 
twelve that same night, he, himself, was out under the 
silent stars, pressing the pretty hand of Bessie Wilson^ 
in a tender farewell). Janice is a confiding, affectionate 
little creature, just the kind of a woman to be unsus- 
pectingly led off the right track. Oh, pshaw ! what am I 
thinking about ! 

He beat a hasty retreat from his own thoughts, but 
the sleep he slept that night, was, to say the least, un- 
jefreshing. 


50 


JANICE 


CHAPTER XII. 

The following afternoon he stood at his oflBce window, 
thinking of his wife and wondering what could be the 
matter with her. She hadn^t seemed as glad to have 
him back, as he had thought she would be. She was 
showing an indifference toward him, that was new, and 
he didn^t like it. 

He thought he would go home early and take her for 
a drive. He hadn^t done such a thing for so long ; per- 
haps he had neglected her too much. 

Just then, she and John went galloping by, followed 
by Joe Graham and Edith. 

^^Fll swear! Another ride, and she never spoke to 
me at dinner of going .! he exclaimed. 

He felt perfectly outraged, was angrier than he had 
ever been before in all his life. He took several rapid 
turns across the floor, then threw himself down upon a 
lounge, and didnH get up till the room was in darkness. 
He supposed his wife had returned by then, and he 
closed his office and went home. 

There was no light in the front of the house. He 
opened the door and entered, falling over a rocker in 
the hall. He struck a match and lit the lamp, and .went 
to the kitchen and inquired of the cook if his wife had 
not returned. 

^^LoF, no. It ain^t time fer her yit. Miss Janice 
sholy does ride late. She told me to give you your sup- 
per. Set down to the table and Ifll bring it.^^ 

She put the meal before him, and just as he took 


JANICE 51 

up his knife and fork, his wife came in with her arms 
full of ferns and wild roses. 

Pm late/^ she said. We rode farther than we 
thought. Just see these roses! Aren^t they the very 
loveliest? John faced a nest of hornets to get them for 
me.^^ 

He^ll face something a long sight more formidable 
than hornets before he gets much older. He’ll face a 
loaded gun, and you will be up against the biggest 
scandal this town has ever heard of,” and without eating 
a morsel, he left the house, and paced the front walk 
for an hour. 

When he came in again, his wife was putting the 
finishing touches to a blue straw hat. She draped a 
veil on it, put it on her head, and standing in front of 
the mantel mirror, she surveyed it, complacently turning 
her head from side to side. 

You certainly take this affair coolly, but, when I put 
a bullet into the heart of that big idiot, who only means 
your ruin, it will be quite a serious matter,” he told her. 

^ Hs Hs Jfs ❖ iji ❖ ^ 

Aunt Calline nearly always planned her day’s work 
before she got up in the morning. When she didn’t, 
she went helter-skelter through the day, doing every- 
thing she should not do, and leaving undone half that 
she should do. 

J eff Davis,” her big red rooster, invariably crowed at 
the first peep of day, and she always heard him, and lay 
in bed, and made her program for the day. 

On this particular morning, she planned to get 
through all necessary work as early as possible, and then 
make some ''duty visits.” She had heard that Jesse 
Morgan was sick in bed; hadn’t carried the mail for a 
whole week. She would go and see him, and then " drop 
in and see how Dick Wynne’s wife was a-makin’ it.” 

She put a print of fresh yellow butter, and a bottle of 


52 JANICE 

sweet milk in a basket, and soon after breakfast, started 
out. 

She noticed, before she had gone very far, several little 
boys throwing rocks, and beating with sticks among 
some briars at the side of the road; they were laughing 
loudly, evidently having a lot of fun. She stopped to 
learn the cause of their merriment, and she saw three 
tiny kittens, crouched down in the thickest of the 
growth. They were scared almost out of their wits, and 
were so starved that they looked as if they hadnT strength 
to get upon their feet. 

She asked the boys if they had never read in the Good 
Book, where it said that Blessed are the merciful,’^ 
and told them that even little cats belonged to God% 
creation, and that boys who tormented them, were 

shore to burn in that terrible lake of brimstone.^^ 

She then drove them away and got the kittens out 
from the briars, put them in her apron, and went on to 
Jesse Morgan^s. 

She gave his wife the butter and milk she had brought, 
and put the kittens in her empty basket, and set it under 
the side of the bed. While she inquired how the sick man 
was feeling, and telling of her rescue of the poor little 
cats, that some inhuman wretch had taken from their 
mother, and throwed in amongst the thorns to starve 
to death, the kittens began to cry piteously. An old 
gray cat came to the door, looked in and ran to the 
basket, and got in with the kittens and began to fondle 
and nurse them. 

Aunt Calline understood it all in a moment, and in 
her indignation she said: ^^Miss Morgan, them’s your 
little cats.” Mrs. Morgan owned up, said they were hers, 
but it was all she could do to feed her six children, and 
she couldn’t afford to keep a drove of cats, but as long 
as Aunt Calline had found and brought them back again, 
she would keep them and do the best she could for them. 

The old lady told her no, she would take them home 


JANICE 


53 


with her, and when they got fat and strong, she would 
find good homes for them. She left, and went down to 
Dick Wynne’s house. 

Come right in. Aunt Calline. You are the very 
woman I want to see. You’ve gotten me into a dreadful 
scrape with your advice, and now you must tell me how 
to get out of it,” were J anice’s first words, as she opened 
the door. ^^You know you told me to primp up, and 
look pretty, and get out and flirt a bit to bring Dick to 
his senses. I haven’t exactly flirted, but I’ve gone with 
John Neal some. He’s the only man on earth, that I 
would have gone with, for he is all right, and he knows 
I am too. Dick has grown awfully jealous; has even 
hinted at shooting John. I am so afraid he will do 
something rash, and he is so wretched, — doesn’t eat or 
sleep, — I must explain things to him. I can’t live, 
knowing how angry he is with me.” 


54 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XIIL 

Janice told her what had transpired the evening be- 
fore, and said : Aunt Calline, don’t you think I have 
punished him enough ? ” 

No, no, Honey, — ^give him another dose of his own 
medicine. He hain’t had enough yet. One dose of any- 
thing jest stirs a-body up and makes ’em feel bad, but 
give two or three doses, and it cleans out the system, 
and does a sight o’ good. It does more good, tuck on a 
empty stomach too ; so don’t worry if he don’t eat. His 
appetite will come back to him all right, when he gets 
through with the course. Don’t you worry. Honey. 
Don’t you let up yit. Thar’s nothin’ like bringing things 
home to folks.” 

After this additional advice, she took her little cats ”, 
and went home. 

On the morning of this same day, Dick went to his 
office. He found John already there. He took the mail 
from him, scarcely responding to his Good-morning.” 
He began looking through the letters, and suddenly his 
face reddened, and he hastily thrust one of them in his 
pocket. 

He had stopped at a saloon on his way as he came 
down town, and had taken just enough brandy to excite 
him and make him care little for what he might say. 

He asked what had been done during his absence. 

John said: Not much of anything.” The weather 

had been av/fully hot, and he had been half sick, and had 
not tried to stir up much in the way of business. 

I think you have been too busy looking after my wife, 
to do anything else,” Dick said hotly. 


JANICE 


55 


John gave him a look, and saw that he was in an ill- 
humor, and had really meant to insinuate that he had 
acted dishonorably. This vexed him, and he decided that 
the occasion was a fitting one for giving him the plain 
talk he had promised Aunt Calline that he would give 
him. 

You know that you wrote me to look in on your wife, 
Dick, and see if she was all right. I did so, and found 
her entirely alone, and apparently a little gloomy. I 
pitied her, and being your friend and hers, I only felt 
that I was doing what was my duty in looking after her 
as I did. In fact, I thought it was what you would 
wish, and expect me to do.^^ 

Are you sure that the sentiment, that prompted the 
attention you gave her, was pity and friendship, — noth- 
ing warmer ? he then asked. 

Dick, I will acknowledge that in days gone by I 
loved her, you also knew it, — ^but when I saw that she 
reciprocated the love you gave her, and that you seemed 
so suited to each other, and so happy together, I tried to 
suppress this love, and while my heart was full of bitter 
disappointment, I felt glad for you, and did all that I 
could for you. I was your friend then, loyal and true. 
I did not try to win her from you, when you were her 
lover. Do you think I would do so now, when she is your 
wife ? 

Dick put his thumb to his lips, and assumed a thought- 
ful attitude. 

^^Now, Dick, that IVe begun, I^m going to talk seri- 
ously to you. Do you realize that you are standing on 
the very brink of a precipice; that you are about to 
plunge into absolute ruin?^’ 

^^What do you mean, John? What are you talking 
about? ” 

Well, in the first place, you are drinking too much. 
The habit is getting a hold on you, that must be broken 
at once, or you are doomed. And furthermore your 


56 


JANICE 


domestic happiness is threatened by that affair with 
Bessie Wilson. Yonr wife knows all about it. ISTow, for 
God^s sake, man, stop and look about you before it^s too 
late! Think of all you have to make you happy, — the 
incentive to do what is right. Let your manhood assert 
itself. Be all that you are capable of being, old man,^^ 
and he took Dick^s trembling hand. 

Dick broke down completely at this, and said : What 
a fool Fve been, John. Of course, I know that you are 
honest and true, through and through. Stand by me, 
and help me to reclaim myself, and I promise to turn 
over at once a new, clean leaf.^^ 

When John left the office, Dick took his letter from 
his pocket, and read it. Tt was from Bessie. She wrote 
that she had postponed her wedding-day, and would be 
in the village the following week. 

I must see you once more before I go out into the 
blackness of a life with that old IdioV^ she declared. 

He knew that he should write her not to come, and tell 
her of his promise to turn over the new clean leaf, — but 
he did not, — and the next Friday, as he waited in the 
post-office for the opening of the mail, she came in, and 
held out to him her slim white hand. He got his letters, 
and they passed out on to the street. The sun had gone 
down, and the shades of evening were gathering in the 
little park as they entered it, and seated themselves on a 
bench. There was silence between them for a time. A 
cricket chirped noisily 'in the grass at their feet, and a 
family of sparrows fell out, and chattered crossly in the 
tree-tops above them. 

With a sob in her voice, she finally said to him that 
he didn^t appear to be glad that she had come. 

Yo,^^ he said, I must admit that I am not. I think 
that the time has come when the parting of the ways is 
best for us both. Neither of us is getting any good or 
happiness out of this affair. I have a good wife, and her 
faith in me is terribly shaken. 1 must settle down to a 


JANICE 


57 


steady, better life, and try to reinstate myself in her con- 
fidence and respect. My practice has fallen off of late, 
because Eve neglected it, and my friends are leaving me. 
I^m getting too great a fondness for drink. I must call 
a halt, and go back to the better life I led a few months 
back. If you love me as you say you do, you should be 
willing to make a sacrifice to help me on to the better 
track. You must go back at once, get ready and marry 
the man you are pledged to. You are fond of luxury, 
the glitter and glamour of life. You will have abundant 
means to enable you to gratify your tastes, and you will 
get pleasure, if not happiness, out of it all.^^ 

She began to protest, but he assured her it was useless ; 
that he had fully determined to do his duty to his wife, 
to himself and to her too, and they must separate. 

He promised to befriend her at any time in any honor- 
able way, if she should need his services. He carried her 
back to the hotel and she left for home the next day. 

Two months later, the City papers gave a detailed ac- 
count of her wedding, and the old millionaire took her 
abroad to spend the honeymoon. 

Dick turned over the new clean leaf in earnest, and 
became once more, his old steady contented self. He took 
new interest in his business, and his home life became 
again ideal. 

John was greatly gratified at the change in his friend. 
He believed that a crisis had passed in his life, that he 
had sown his last wild oats and had settled down into 
a model business man and a husband above reproach. 

So things ran along smoothly and evenly for six 
months, when one day, John came across an item of news 
in the paper, that was very disquieting to him. Bessie 
and her husband, who were still abroad, had been in a 
railroad accident, and the old man was fatally injured. 

John feared that the pretty widow would come again 
upon the scene, and that everything good for Dick would 
come to an end. 


58 


JANICE 


He told Dick of his fears, and warned him to be on 
his guard, when Bessie returned, and not allow her to 
ensnare him again. 

Don^t worry one minute about me, John. I have 
learned an unforgettable lesson, and I am too happy in 
my home life to be led off any more. J anice is indeed a 
^ perfect woman, nobly planned.^ She gets lovelier and 
dearer to me day by day. I am confident that the wiles 
of no living woman can ever make me forget my alle- 
giance to her again. 

Bessie came back home, bringing the remains of her 
husband. She placed them in the handsome vault with 
the ashes of his first wife, cemented the door, and with 
a feeling of great relief that she had gotten rid of him 
and secured his fortune so soon, she took up life once 
more among old friends and scenes. 

The cradle, that had stood empty in Dick Wynne’s 
home for two years, was taken from the corner. The 
ruffles on the little pillow were freshly fluted, and soft 
fleecy blankets covered the downy bed. 

Nestling there was a tiny baby with pretty brown eyes 
like her mother’s, and she had been given her mother’s 
name. 

The mother had been desperately ill. Dick had been 
beside himself with anxiety and apprehension, but this 
morning the physician had assured him that the crisis 
had passed, and her recovery was almost a certainty. 

The wee baby had been taken to her, and she had re- 
joiced over it, and caressed it as only a mother can, while 
Dick had looked on with a great love for her, and thank- 
fulness for her promised recovery. 

He had an important case to get up. His wife’s illness 
had delayed his work, and now that his mind was so 
relieved about her, he went to his office immediately after 
breakfast, got out his papers, and was just beginning to 


JANICE 


59 


arrange them before him, when someone tapped on the 
door, and in answer to his impatient Come in ! the 
door opened and Bessie entered. 

More radiantly beautiful than ever before, Dick pro- 
nounced her the moment his eyes fell upon her. Her 
complexion was a combination of a spotless lily and a 
wild pink rose, and her eyes, like violets, were deeply, 
darkly, beautifully blue. 

She had always gowned herself tastefully, and now she 
was gotten up in the most exquisite manner. From the 
dainty widow’s cap to the tips of her Parisian boots, she 
was faultless. 

She gave him her hand, and at the same time, a smile 
that brought pretty dimples to her cheeks. She sank 
gracefully into the chair that he placed for her and told 
him how well he was looking and asked after his wife 
and new baby. 

You remember, 'Dick, that when we last parted, you 
promised to befriend me, if I ever needed you to do so. 
The time has come, and I am here to claim a fulfillment 
of that promise. My husband left me a very large inher- 
itance. You know that I have always been as poor as a 
church mouse, and have had no experience in handling 
large sums of money. I want you to take charge of my 
business, and see just what shape it is in; get everything 
properly arranged, and explain it all to me. I can then 
perhaps, look after myself. If I go to a stranger, he 
will take advantage of my ignorance, you know. I can 
trust you. Will you do this for me, Dick?” and she 
looked at him in a very helpless and pleading way. 

His first impulse was to decline, on the plea of being 
already over-taxed with business, and refer her to a friend 
of his, who lived in her city, — a good lawj^er and a man 
whose honesty and integrity he could vouch for. He 
knew that this would be the wisest and safest thing to do, 
but he told himself that to do this, would be cowardly. 
It would look as if he was afraid to trust himself. He 


6o 


JANICE 


would like to prove to John and his wife that he was 
indeed a changed man, and to prove to them his ability 
and determination to do right, and he had sense enough 
to know that a wrong step taken now, would surly mean 
his downfall. 

He told her he would look after her affairs just long 
enough to fix them so that she could take care of them 
herself ; but that it must only be business between them. 
The past he had buried, and it must remain buried for all 
time. 

She agreed that this would be the best for both of them, 
and assured him that she had not the slightest desire to 
resurrect it. 

As she left him, she gave him an exquisite white car- 
nation, and asked him to take it to his wife from her. 
He promised to be with her in a few days, and see what 
was necessary to be done. 

He tried to put her entirely out of his thoughts, when 
she was gone. He took a hasty lunch at noon and worked 
hard till night. 

When he got home, he knocked at the door of his wife’s 
room and asked the nurse if he could see her for a few 
moments. The nurse was preparing a quieting potion for 
the patient, who, she told him, was not quite so well as 
when he had left her in the morning. A fever had come 
on again, and she had a headache. 

He administered the powder himself; then sat down 
by the bed and took her hand. He turned her wedding- 
ring, noticing how loosely it fitted her finger. She put up 
her other hand, and took hold of the lapel of his coat, and 
admired the carnation he had pinned to it, that Bessie 
had told him to give her. She asked him where he had 
gotten it, but he pretended not to hear her. 

Do you think I shall ever be well again, Dick ? But 
if I should die, could you live without me ? ” she asked 
him. 

Now you must not get despondent. Everything de- 


JANICE 


6i 


pends on yonr keeping np yonr spirits. Of course, I 
think you will soon be all right again. As to living 
without you, I would never try. I would simply die 
too,^^ and he leaned over and kissed her hot lips. 

The powder began to take effect, — ^her eyes closed, 
and she fell asleep. 

He thought how pretty and long her lashes were, and 
how their darkness brought out the pallor of her face. 
He laid her hand on the counter-pane and tip-toed from 
the room. 

He went into the sitting-room and lay upon the 
couch. The room was dark and cheerless and the si- 
lence about the house was oppressive. He felt depressed 
and anxious about his wife, and he thought how empty 
and lonely and aimless his life would be without her. 

He felt mean too, to think that he had so far for- 
gotten his duty to her as to get tangled up in that affair 
with Bessie. 

This brought Bessie before him again in all her glori- 
ous beauty, and he fell to planning a way for getting 
off to the City as soon as his wife’s condition would 
allow. 


62 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE Xy. 

The next week Janice’s convalescence was assured 
and Dick told her that important business called him 
away. 

He found Bessie in an elegant home, filled with all 
that was beautiful and luxurious that wealth could pro- 
cure. The pretty parlor where she received him, with 
its delicate draperies and other adornment enhanced 
her beauty and her evident joy at his coming was quite 
flattering to his vanity. 

She had him to lunch with her, and her table was a 
marvel in costly china and silver, and the wine she 
served, drunk from long-stemmed crystal glasses, was 
the best. 

He remained a couple of days, looking over lists of 
properties and investments. The departed husband had 
evidently been a shrewd and careful man. His affairs 
were in excellent shape. Dick showed his widow how 
everything was invested, who his agents were that looked 
after his renting interests, and advised her to let every- 
thing remain just as he had left it. 

When he left her, he told her to let him know if 
anything went wrong, and that he would see her again. 

The wine she served him at luncheon, created in him 
a mad desire for something stronger, and he bought a 
bottle of brandy before leaving the City, and resorted to 
it so often on his journey home that his step was un- 
steady when he arrived there. 

The scent of liquor on his breath, when he kissed 
his wife, sent a pang to her heart, for she felt that he 
had taken a step that tended downward again. This 


JANICE 


63 


step downward was followed by others. Night after 
night, he came home scarcely knowing when or how he 
came; often in such a condition that she could only get 
him as far as the sitting-room lounge, where he would 
sleep through the night without disrobing. There she 
made him as comfortable as possible and sat by him 
as he lay in the unconsciousness of intoxication, her 
faithful woman^s heart wrung with grief as she noted 
the deepening and increasing lines in his forehead and 
other changes in his face, made by dissipation. 

One night he failed to come home. She put aside 
his supper, got her baby to sleep; then stood at the 
window watching anxiously for his coming. There was 
quite a storm raging without. The rain was falling and 
the wind blowing furiously. She was dreadfully worried 
about him. 

After a time she saw a man enter the yard and with 
a feeling of great relief, she hastened down-stairs and 
opened the door to admit, — not her husband, but John 
Neal. A terrible fear seized her. Something had hap- 
pened to Dick, she felt sure and John had come to tell 
her of it. She didnT ask him a question, but turned into 
the sitting-room, he following her. 

^^Dick will not be home to-night and I knew you 
would be anxious; so I came to explain it to you,^^ he 
said. 

Why will he not come ? she asked. 

He told her that he had fallen asleep at the office 
and that the storm was so violent, he thought it best to 
let him remain there. 

It is so considerate of you to let me know where 
he is, John, but see how wet you are.^^ 

^^That doesnT matter. You know the old sa3dng, 
neither sugar nor salt.^^ The wind is so high I found 
it impossible to keep an umbrella above my head. I 
hope you are not afraid to remain alone. I am sure 
no one will molest you. Just secure the doors and go to 
sleep. I will look after Dick,^^ he promised. 


64 


JANICE 


I am not in the least afraid to stay alone, but will 
not sleep. My baby is really ill. I am quite anxious 
about her.^^ 

As J ohn turned to leave her, she said so sadly : Oh, 
J ohn ! what can we do for Dick ? I can^t give him up 
and see him go to utter ruin. Can we not do something 
to save him ? 

John realized all the hopelessness of the case, but he 
told her not to despair. He promised to remonstrate 
with him, and do all he could to induce him to do better. 

He felt awfully hard toward Dick, when he went 
back to him and found him sleeping soundly, all uncon- 
scious of the suffering he was causing his wife. He 
thought that perhaps, he might have the right to go to 
the dogs, if it affected the life of no one but himself, but 
he had no right to bring such mortification and sorrow 
upon a helpless wife, who had been so true to him. He 
threw a cushion on the table and laid his head upon it, 
not to sleep, but to think and plan for Dick^s salvation. 

When Dick awoke in the early morning, he was sur- 
prised to find himself in the office and John there with 
him. When he. realized what it meant, he was over- 
whelmed with shame and declared that John should 
have gone about his business and not have spent the 
night caring for such a worthless cur as he. He asked 
what he supposed his wife thought had become of him. 

John told him he didn^t think it made any difference 
to him what she thought, — that a man, who acted as he 
was acting, had no regard for a wife, that he feared she 
had not spent a very restful night, alone at home with a 
sick baby to care for, and a husband out in town, too 
drunk to take care of himself. 

At this, he declared that he was not fit to live and he 
intended to blow his brains out and be done with it all. 

That is a senseless way to talk, Dick. Why do you 
not make up your mind that you will get sober and 
stay so? Try to be a man that your wife and friends 


JANICE 


65 


will be proud of. You have it in you to get to the very 
top in your profession. You can, if you only will it, 
become one of the first men in the country. You can 
go where you please and do what you please, if only you 
will let drink alone, and do right. Why, in God^s name, 
Dick, can’t you see this ? Why will you persist in living 
this reckless, sinful life that you are living. Your wife 
worships you. Even though you have sunk to the black 
pits of sin and shame, she has remained with you, 
steadfast, unshrinking and true. She will so gladly 
help you in every possible way to get upon a better track, 
and your friends will flock to you, and stand by you, 
if you will only show them that you intend to become a 
sober true man again. Can’t you make up your mind to 
try once more ? '' 

Dick got his hat, and left the office. He went a back 
way^ got over his garden fence and stole into his home. 

He found his wife with her sick baby in her arms. 
Her eyes were hollow and full of sorrow. The bed was 
undisturbed, showing that she had not lain down during 
the night. He went to her and told her just how mean 
and contemptible and shameless he had been, and asked 
her if there was any atonement he could make, any- 
thing that he could do, that would make her willing to 
forgive and trust him again. 

‘^1 know that I have forfeited every claim to your 
respect, leaving affection out of the question, but, believe 
me, Janice, I’ve loved you all the time, incredible as 
it may appear. I don’t know what has possessed me. In 
all my wild, reckless career, I have not been happy. 
There is something woefully wrong in my make-up. 
Let me come back to you once more. Try to think as 
kindly of me as you can, and I solemnly promise that 
I will never let another drop of liquor pass my lips, nor 
turn from the straight path of honor again. My life 
shall be so clean, and my effort to make you happy so 
great, that perhaps in time, you can in a measure forget 
how badly I have acted.” 


66 


JANICE 


She assured him that, in spite of all his wrong-do- 
ing and neglect of her and his child, her love had never 
wavered nor gTown less, and that there was nothing 
she would not be glad to do to help him become himself 
again. 

With her own hands she prepared his breakfast, and 
waited upon him as if he were an honored guest. 

He didn^t leave home during the day, but spent it 
in doing little needful jobs about the place, tying up 
vines, that had left their supports and nailing on loose 
palings. 

At night he told his wife he would go for his mail, — 
he was expecting an important letter, — but would re- 
turn in a few minutes. 

He went down street. The saloon he was accustomed 
to visiting was bright and inviting, the sound of music 
and mirth came to him as he stopped at the door and 
looked in. He felt weak and shakj^, and thought it 
would only be a mercy to himself to go in and take a 
very small drink, just enough to brace him up, and it 
should positively be his very last, and his wife need 
never know of it. 

So he yielded to the tempter, went up to the bar, and 
asked for the one drink. This made him feel so good 
that he decided he would try just one more. The result 
was that he left the saloon in quite a jovial spirit, with 
a filled flask in his pocket. 

He got his letter from the post-office, which was en- 
tirely too dainty looking for a business document. He 
began to feel light-headed and hot, and decided to go 
down to the creek below town and take a plunge. He 
reached the creek and soon emptied his flask, lay down 
under a clump of willows, and fell asleep and knew noth- 
ing more till morning. 

Then everything came back to him. 

Last night’s doings certainly wind up everything 
for me here. I can’t face Janice after so soon breaking 


JANICE 


67 

the solemn pledge that I made her only yesterday. I 
shall just go away, — far away. If I ever become a decent 
man again, I will come back. If I do not, — if I am to 
sink to the lowest depths, and it seems that on that I 
am determined, I want it to be among strangers.^^ 

He looked in his purse. It contained a five dollar 
bill. He could not start on the journey he intended to 
take, with so small a sum; so he went to his office, and 
from the safe took a roll of money, and wrote a note to 
J ohn, telling him of his intention to go away. 

After the acknowledgment of my bad conduct to 
my wife yesterday, and the solemn promise to reform 
that I made her, and which I have already broken, I 
can^t go back to her now. I am going among strangers, 
and make a desperate effort to regain respectability and 
if I succeed, I will come back to Janice. Look after her, 
John. She, of course, will be dreadfully upset at my 
leaving her, but I believe it is the best thing for me to 
do,^^ — so he wrote. 

He got a conveyance and driver to take him to the 
nearest railroad station. He reached it just in time to 
get aboard as the train pulled out. 


68 


JANICE 


CHAPTER XVI. 

When he failed to return home in a few minutes/^ 
as he had promised his wife he would do, the evening 
previous, she knew that he had yielded to temptation 
again. 

Her baby had grown worse and needed all of her at- 
tention. She tried to worry about Dick as little as pos- 
sible, believing that John would look after him as he 
had the night before. 

John found the note from him on his desk as soon as 
he got to the office. He read it. He was greatly dis- 
turbed over it. He knew that Dick^s leaving in that 
condition would distress his wife terribly; that the un- 
certainty of what would become of him would be dreadful 
to her, but there was nothing to do but to carry her the 
note. 

When she had read it, and realized that he had left 
her, she sobbed as if her heart would break. 

Oh, J ohn, has he really deserted me and my little 
child ? Do you think he will ever come back to us ? 
she asked. 

John told her it was in all probability the best thing 
he could have done, that he would soon tire of roaming 
and find out that home was the best place for him and 
be glad to come back. 

You have nothing, with which to reproach yourself, 
You have done your whole duty to him as a wife. Put 
everything in the hands of the Good Father and trust 
Him to bring it all out right,^^ he advised her. 


JANICE 


69 


You may not know everything that^s worth finding 
out on this mundane spear, Calline Johnson, but thar^s 
one thing that you do know all about, and that one thing 
is, the makin^ 0^ soft soap. Erom the settin^ up of the 
ash hopper, to the pourin^ 0^ the soap into the jair, thaEs 
nothin^ left fer you to learn. You can’t be fooled about 
the right time of the moon for bilin’ it nuther.” 

So Aunt Calline soliloquized one morning, as she stood 
by a pot of soap, that she had just pronounced done.” 

She dipped it up, and let it fall in rich amber ropes 
from her stirrin’ stick,” a look of perfect satisfaction 
on her countenance. 

Six gallins for myself,” she continued, and one 
gallin that I’m a-goin’ to put in this nice smooth jair, 
and take to Janice Wynne for scourin’ purposes.” 

Poor little creetur ! She’s a-havin’ a hard time of it, 
I hear, a-tryin’ to save the carcass and soul both of that 
man she had the misfortin’ to tie to. Thar’s no excuse 
under God’s Heaven for him to be a-goin’ on like he is. 
It’s nothin’ but pure downright devilment in him; and 
as long as my soap’s done, I would shorely like to give 
him a leetle techin’ up with this here ^ stirrin’ paddle.’ ” 

She deposited her soap in the cellar, washed and 
greased her pot, and turned it bottom up, and in a half 
hour she went down the street with the soap she was 
giving Janice. 

John had just left Janice, and she was needing the 
old lady’s sympathy more than her soap, when she went 
in. She was in tears, every vestige of hope gone out of 
her face. 

Oh ! Aunt Calline, what shall I do ? ” she moaned. 

Dick has gone. He has deserted me and my baby. Do 
you think I’m to blame for it ? ” 

Shet up sech foolish talk. Honey. Hain’t you done 
everything any mortal woman could do fer Dick Wynne? 
I was a-settin’ on the very front seat in that Church 
up yonder on top 0’ that hill that purty mornin’ not so 


JANICE 


70 

many j^ear ago, when you and Dick got married. You 
was the sweetest lookin^ creetur that I ever sot eyes upon, 
as you come up that aisle a-leanin^ on his arm in your 
little gray dress a-totin^ of that big bunch of lilac blos- 
soms. You promised to stick to him through good report 
and evil too. For better, for worse, tell death parts ; I 
heered you say, and youVe done all you promised. You 
ain’t one spec to blame. You didn’t drive him off. You 
didn’t as much hint that you wanted him to go. Thar 
was nobody that tied a rope to his leg and drug him off. 
He jes’ went because he wanted to. He had acted so little 
and mean and low-down that he couldn’t stay. 

You won’t like to hear me tell you, and mebbe you 
won’t take it after I do tell you, but the advice I’m 
a-goin’ to give you is this, — jes’ let him go. Don’t 
bother to send him a special invertation to come back. 
Let him take his own good time about cornin’. Ef he 
was sober, and know’d what he was a-doin’ when he 
left you, he ain’t wuth greevin’ about; and you air 
better off without him. Ef he didn’t have his right min’ 
when he went, when he gits it back, you kin look fer 
him, for he will shorely come. Git down on your 
knees and ax the Good Lord for help. Tell Him you air 
plum’ willin’ to do whatever he wants yer to do ; 
to go whar He wants yer to go. Put everything in 
His hands, for they air a heap bigger and stronger 
than yourn, and go right on about your business 
like nothin’ had happened. Shet up the house, and come 
and stay with me a few days, tell yer git kin’er ust ter 
things.” 


JANICE 


71 


CHAPTER XVII. 

It was near the close of an extremely hot August day. 
The sun was going down behind the western hills. Two 
men were walking the dusty, cinder-covered track of a 
railroad, that wound its way over the hills and through 
the plains. 

They were remarkably alike, — the same height and 
build; black hair and eyes and well-shaped hands and 
feet, that betokened good blood and breeding, though they 
had been taken for tramps by people, who had met them 
that day as they passed along. 

The two had met for the first time the night before 
in a saloon in a small town ten miles behind them. Each 
of them had there spent his last cent for a drink, and 
they had gone out into the night together, and had 
shared a straw bed in a barn loft. They had been given 
a piece of bread and a glass of milk by a kind-hearted 
farmer’s wife at noon, and now they were feeling the 
need of something more. One of them was without a 
coat, and his hat was almost brimless. 

In a valley below the track they were wearily walking. 
They saw a two room log cabin. The yard was neatly 
swept and the walk leading from the gate to the low 
doorstep had a bordering of bright old-fashioned flowers. 
Over the door was carefully trained a balsam vine, and 
the rich, golden fruit shone among the finely cut green 
leaves. On a shelf in the shadow of the vine, was a 
well scoured bucket and a white long-handled gourd. 

Altogether, it was a restful and inviting looking place 
to the two tired men and they scrambled down the em- 
bankment and stood at the gate. The light shone cheerily 


72 


JANICE 


from the door-way and a woman was rocking a little 
child to sleep in its cradle. The men entered and asked 
to be allowed to stop for the night. 

The woman, who possessed a refinement and beanty not 
often met with in such an out-of-the-way place, told them 
that it was a rule of her husband, never to turn weary and 
hungry men from his door, — gave them water and towels 
and left them to refresh themselves, while she prepared 
the evening meal. 

They heard the master of the home come in, whistling 
from the barn and heard his wife in a low tone, tell him 
of their presence. She laid the table, and the odor of 
frying meat and coffee, that came to their nostrils, was 
surely delightful to the hungry guests. 

When called to supper, they were not questioned as to 
where they came from, or where they were going, but 
were bountifully helped to the food before them. It was 
a wholesome meal. The wayfarers did full justice to it. 

At its conclusion, one of the men excused himself, 
retired to the room assigned them, fell across the bed, 
and was soon sleeping soundly. The other, following a 
path that led down a short hill,. reached a spring, where a 
bench with a paddle for pounding dirt from soiled cloth- 
ing lying upon it, and a large iron pot, indicated that the 
family laundry was done here. The man seated himself 
upon the bench. 

The moon had come up and was shining brightly. An 
orchestra of frogs was concerting in a reedy marsh and a 
night bird called plaintively from a nearby tree-top. 

The man listened to the voices of the night for a time ; 
then he said aloud to himself : How tired I am ! 

Tired both in body and soul. I am utterly wretched. 
This peaceful home here in the solitude, with the ap- 
parent love and content of its inmates, has made me ter- 
ribly homesick. These are such lonely looking hills. I 
want the hills of home. I am hungry for the sight of my 
wife^s face, for the tender touch of her hand, for the 


JANICE 


73 


sound of her voice, speaking in sweet forgiveness. I 
wonder if I may ever hear it again.-’^ The man was Dick 
Wynne. 

He was still a wanderer from home and those who 
loved him. He went back to the cabin where his com- 
panion was still sleeping, hung his coat and hat on a 
chair, and he too was soon wrapped in the forgetfulness 
of sleep. 

He attempted to rise when he awoke in the morning, 
but found himself too ill to do so. An acute pain in his 
head with nausea, compelled him to lie back upon his 
pillow. 

It developed that his companion had departed some- 
time during the night, taking Dick^s coat, watch and hat, 
and leaving his own brimless hat behind him. 

Before the day was gone, Dick was raving in delirium. 
The country doctor was called in, and after an exami- 
nation, he pronounced his patient an extremely sick man. 
For a week he lay unconscious, and for two more, he was 
too weak to leave his bed. He was told that the man, 
who came to the cabin with him had gone to sleep on the 
railroad track fifty miles away, and an engine ran 
over him, killing him as he lay in his drunken sleep. 

One evening, when Dick had so far recovered that he 
knew he could no longer accept the hospitality of 
these kind people, when he had nothing with which to 
repay them, he saw his host take the bucket and go down 
to the spring. 

He followed him and they sat upon the bench where 
he had sat the first night of his stay at the cabin, and 
he told the whole story of his life, not keeping back any 
of his wrong-doing. He told of his wife and child, and 
said that he had left them, hoping that among strangers 
he could reform. 

^^You made a mistake right there,” said his friend. 

You stood a better chance to reform at home with those, 
who love you, to help you and my advice to you is to 


74 


JANICE 


return at once. T^om what you tell me of your wife, 
I know that she will give you a royal welcome and the 
help that a man can get from no one but a good wife 
or mother. I will let you have money/ if you haven^t it, 
and you can refund it. I will go into town to-morrow 
and get the clothing you need. You haven^t a hat or 
coat. You have been without drink long enough to let 
it alone, if you will. You must get back and take up 
your home and business life without delay 

Two days later he was on the train homeward bound. 


JANICE 


75 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 


When half-way home, he made the acquaintance of 
a person, always to be met with on a journey of any 
length, — a jovial, good fellow, with a red nose and a 
flask in his grip. He invited Dick to have a drink with 
him, and alas ! for his good resolutions ! He took one, 
— and he took several more. 

He left the train at a town twenty miles from home 
to get his flask filled and the train pulled off without 
him. He went to the hotel to wait for the next one 
and when it came, he was too drunk to know of its com- 
ing. Here he stayed till his last cent was gone and he 
started on foot for home. 

He got there at noon on the second day and not wish- 
ing to be seen by anyone, he went the back way to 
the Church, thinking he would go in and rest till night, 
before going to his wife. The Church door was un- 
locked and he went in and sat by a window. 

What a flood of recollections rushed over him! By 
this same window he had always sat, when as a boy he 
had come to Church to see his sweetheart. She sat 
directly across the ^Church, a shy, brown-eyed girl, be- 
side her mother. He never heard a word of the text 
or the sermon, but gave all of his attention to her. 
Later on, when he had reached young manhood, he 
occupied this same seat. He could see her come in; 
before she sat down, she always shot a swift glance 
to learn if he was in his place and a guilty flush over- 
spread her face, when she saw that he detected it. He 
could see her now in her dainty dresses and pretty 
Spring hats, with the light of love and happiness in her 
face. 


76 


JANICE 


He went and stood in front of the altar on the iden- 
tical spot, where he stood when he made her his wife. 
In fancy, he could hear Oh, promise me,^^ as it was 
played softly on the little organ in the corner, and feel 
the trembling of her hand on his arm, as she said in 
tones so sweet and low till death us do part.^^ He 
remembered that he too had promised to be faithful 
unto death, and he realized that this was now one 
among many other broken promises. 

He left the Church and climbed the fence that en- 
closed the churchyard. He kept in the shadow of the 
trees and shrubbery. Seeing no one, he ventured out 
into the walk and stopped at the plot where his baby 
was buried. 

He suddenly turned white, and dropped down by a 
long, newly made grave beside the small one. 

Aunt Calline with a basket of gorgeous red and 
yellow dahlias came along the walk and turned into the 
lot. 

She stopped instantly, dropped her basket, threw up 
both hands and said : Heavens above ! Dick Wynne, 
when did you rise?” 

For the" Lord^s sake. Aunt Calline, tell me whose 
grave this is,” he pleaded, unmindful of her question. 

^^Why, iFs yourn,” she said. Would you like to 
know how you come to your end?” 

don^t think that matters. It can have been no 
worse than I deserve,” he told her. 

You air mighty right. Yer know yer deserted your 
wife and baby, and went to roam the vride world over. 
You got out o’ money, as ordinary folks alius do, when 
they start off on sech a lengthy trip, and instid o’ ridin’ 
all the way, you had to take to trampin’. You sot down 
on a railroad track somewhars out west, thinkin’ the 
engine would go around a gentleman of your impor- 
tance, I reckon, but it didn’t. It tuck you up and sot 


JANICE 


77 . 


you over a fence in a briar patch and bunged you up 
so terribly that nobody would a-knowed who yer was 
if it hadn^t a-bin fer some letters and cards yer had 
in yer pocket, that told whar yer come from. Some- 
body let John Neal know about it and he went and 
brought your remainders home. They give you a 
real nice funeral; shot up all the stores and hired 
the whole livery stable to take the folks to the cemetery. 
That^s all I know about your death and that grave. 
Can you tell me any more ? 

think I understand it all now. On the last day 
of my tramping out West, I was accompanied by a 
man, that I met the night before in a saloon in a little 
town. We went together to a cabin in the hills to spend 
the night. We were wonderfully alike, and pulled 
down the scales to about the same notch. I may have 
been slightly the taller. 

That night while I slept, he took my hat and coat 
and skipped out. A few days later he was run over by a 
train and killed as he lay asleep, drunk on the track, 
A description of him suited me exactly and my cards 
and letters found in the pocket of the coat he took 
from me, fixed the identity on me. Here he sleeps 
among strangers and here I am back home, ashamed to 
face my wife in this garb and condition. She thinks 
me dead and buried and it is a great pity that I am 
not. If I put in an appearance at home to-night, it will 
certainly startle her.^^ 

DonT yer go to her to-night. You do look tough. 
Spend the night at my house and get a good night^s 
rest. Git up early in the momin^ and spruce up and 
go home, and see what she’ll have to say to yer. I’ll go 
home and fix yer some supper. You can go the back 
way so nobody^ll see yer.” 

She took a pan of grain into the yard and called her 
chickens. They each had a name. It was difficult for 
her to decide which one she would sacrifice for the re- 


78 


JANICE 


turned prodigaPs supper, but she finally settled on 
Hobson/^ She brought her best china, white, deco- 
rated with blue birds, and her nicest linen and laid the 
table. 

When Dick got in about dusk and went into supper 
hungry after his long tramp, a welcome sight greeted 
him. The bright coffee pot was puffing the aroma of 
well made coffee, from its spout and Hobson,^^ fried 
to a turn, was resting on a platter, surrounded by 
creamy brown puffs. A bowl of rich gravy, biscuits of 
good size and lightness, a print of Brindleys best butter 
and peach preserves comprised the bill of fare. Dick 
ate ravenously, after which he lit a cigar and leaving 
the house, he went out for a stroll to see how the town 
looked. 


JANICE 


79 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

Opposite his own home he stopped in the shadow 
of a large oak and leaned against its trunk. His doo^* 
was open and the light from a well-trimmed lamp shone 
out upon the porch and for some distance down the 
walk. 

He saw his wife come out in her black dress, lead- 
ing her child by the hand. How sweetly familiar her 
voice sounded as she talked to it, and it prattled softly 
to her. 

A man came down street, opened the gate and went 
up the walk. When he entered the light, he saw that 
the man was John. The child held both hands to him, 
and he took her in his arms, and carried her to the 
sitting-room and stood her on the table. He took a 
package from his pocket and gave it to her and she 
opened it. He saw that it was a doll. After frolicking 
with her a while, she laid her head on his shoulder and 
went to sleep. 

One would think she was John^s kid instead of 
mine,^^ the man in the shadow of the oak said bitterly. 

After Janice took the child from John and carried 
her off to bed, he took a book from his pocket and sat 
by the table looking through it. She came back and 
sat near him and looked on as he turned the leaves. 

When he left, she closed and locked the door and as 
he went up street, Dick, keeping in the shadow, followed 
him. He saw him go in his office and light it and take 
the book he had looked through with Janice and lay 
it on the desk. He then closed the windows and went 
away. 


8o 


JANICE • 


When he was out of sight, Dick crossed the street, 
fitted a key to the door, opened it and went in. He made 
a light and picked up the book John had left on the 
desk and opened it. 

Hello ! Here^s a book of prints, — T 0 M B- 

STONE S!!^^ 

^^Well, let me see what they have selected for me. 
I guess that^s what they were doing with their heads 
so near together down at the house. Here^s one marked. 
I suppose it is the one. They are going to do the hand- 
some thing by me^ I see. Ifs the finest in the whole 
lot. Here they will cut my name and the usual words 

In loving memory etc. I wonder if she loves me still. 
I donT see how it can be possible. What a pity that she 
didnT fancy John instead of me!! They would have 
suited so well. She was always too good for me.^^ 

Well, well, Fll get back to Aunt Calline’s. I know 
she^s tired of waiting up for me. Ell get a good sleep 
and to-morrow morning I will go home and put a stop 
to this tombstone business. 

The rest, a good bath, his hair and clothes brushed, 
improved him greatly. He put on a bold front, held up 
his head and went the principal street directly home. 

His wife was in the dining-room with a waiter of 
roses, that she had cut with the dew still upon them, 
in her hand. She was going to the cemetery. She 
turned and faced him as he entered the door. 

With a glad cry she ran to him and took his hands. 

Oh, Dick ! she cried, it was all a mistake. You 
are not dead, and you have come back to me.^^ 

^^Yes, back to you Janice and I have come to stay, 
if you will allow me.^^ ' 

So he took up his home and business life once more. 
He went to work with a will and as the days came and 
went, he seemed happy and contented with his wife and 
child, and life took on a different aspect for them. 

J anice put behind her the shadow, the sorrow and the 


JANICE 


8i 


tears. New hopes came into her heart and she tried to 
look forward to years of gladness and peace. 

The brightness was not to be of long duration^ how- 
ever. Just as she began to feel secure in it all, Dick^s 
health failed. She with the eyes of love, was the first to 
notice it. His appetite failed; he was always tired, then 
he took a cough and had fever. 

The doctor was called and said that he was just run 
down,^^ and needed a tonic. He would give him one that 
would soon build him up and bring him round all right. 
It looked for a time that this would be the case, but his 
improvement was only temporary and next a change was 
proposed for him. 

John persuaded Janice to leave the little girl with his 
sister, and she go with Dick and give him all her atten- 
tion. This was agreed upon and she took him up in the 
mountains, when he grew a little stronger, then lost it 
all, grew despondent and wanted to return home and 
went. 

He was wearied out with the travel, took his bed 
and never again left it. Janice nursed him constantly, 
would scarcely leave him a moment and John was as 
faithful, but love could not keep ‘him and when Spring 
came, when Nature wore her loveliest robes, the end 
came. 

Hold fast to my hand, J anice as I drift out upon the 
dark waters of this mysterious river! Your love and 
John’s friendship have been the truest things that ever 
came into my life. I leave her to you John. You will 
be faithful to the trust/’ he said. 


82 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XX. 

Then Janice told John that she must go away: 

There is nothing left me here but memories and most 
of them are bitter. I will close my house and take my 
little girl and go to a place I have never seen before 
and among people I have never known* 1^11 make me a 
new home and it may be that in time I may to some 
extent forget.^^ 

So she left it all behind her and went to a distant 
city. She took a cottage and made her a garden and 
grew the flowers she loved best. In her rooms she hung 
pretty draperies and pictures and put in tasteful furnish- 
ings. She met new people and made friends of many 
of them; read new books; became a member of a small 
Church and tried to become interested in its work. 
She was constantly employed in her effort to get away 
from her trouble. 

The Summer waned. The melancholy days of Au- 
tumn came; her flowers died, she lost interest, became 
restless and dissatisfled and found herself longing for 
the home and faces of friends she had left. 

can never make me a home here,^^ she thought, 
as she stirred the fire into a brighter glow and turned on 
all the light in the room, at the close of an especially 
dark and rainy day. 

question if I acted wisely in coming away from 
my home. I am even more wretched here, where all is 
strange to me, than I was where everything held a sor- 
rowful memory, I think I must just go back to my old 
friends, — Aunt Calline and John especially. — How 
true they were to me, and how I have missed them. I 


JANICE 83 

will go back, and live among them again, and try to 
face the future bravely and cheerfully/^ 

With her, to decide was to act quickly and in a short 
time she had everything arranged and started back 
home. She couldn^t bear the thought of going into 
her empty home alone at night, and she stopped and 
knocked at Aunt Calline’s door^ when she arrived in the 
village. 

It was Saturday night and ten o^clock. The old 
lady was preparing for bed, had just tied on a ruffled 
night-cap, when she was startled by the knocking on her 
door. 

She knew Janice^s voice immediately, and flung the 
door wide open and had her in her arms before she had 
time to thiii. 

She prepared a cup of coffee for J anice and got bread 
and milk for the child; after which she tuck^ed them 
away in her best bed and left them to tired Nature^s 
sweet restorer.^^ 

This is Communion Day at our Church. Brother 
Plynt will have somethin^ good and comfortin^ to say, 
and I donT know a body a-livin^ that needs to hear 
him say it, more than you Honey,^^ said Aunt Calline, 
the next morning, as she washed up the breakfast things'. 

You must go to meetinV^ she went on, your friends 
will be so glad to see yer back. Ifll take the child and 
go and open up your house. I was thar yistiddy and 
swept and dusted things. We kin have dinner thar as 
well as here and the sooner you git back home, the better 
it will be fer you.^^ 

So Janice went to the little Church on the Hill. Be- 
fore entering it, she visited Dick^s grave. She found 
it covered with the gayest of Fall flowers, — red and 
yellow zinneas and royal purple asters. It looked like a 


84 


JANICE 


bright piece of patchwork, and she knew that the hands 
of An;nt Calline had spread it there. 

She went quietly into the Church and took her old 
seat. She saw many familiar faces, but John^s was not 
one of them. She wondered at this, for she knew that 
he always went to Church. She had heard him say 
that if one was a member, it was his duty to go ; and if 
he was not a member, his going was a mark of respec- 
tability. Just as the singing began, he came in. 

She noticed at once that he was thinner than she had 
ever seen him and looked weary and care-worn. Since 
she had gone away, it had pained him to see her place 
either occupied by another or vacant, and he had for 
some time not allowed himself to look there. Conse- 
quently he knew nothing of her presence, this morning. 

At the conclusion of the sermon, which, as Aunt Cal- 
line had predicted, was full of comfort, the usual 
invitation was given to all, who were in love and fel- 
lowship with their neighbor,” to come forward to the 
Lord^s table. John and Janice left their seats at the 
same moment and met at the altar. 

When he saw her, he gave a start and turned slightly 
paler, then recovered himself and they knelt side by 
side. After the broken bread, the cup was passed from 
her lips to his and they were bidden to arise and go in 
peace.” It was indeed with a great peace in his heart 
that he went, for she had come back to him. 

He waited at the door till she came out surrounded 
by friends. He took her hand and said, as he clasped 
it warmly : And you have come back to us.” 

Yes, I think I have come now to stay,” she answered. 

Thank God ! ” came so fervently from his lips that 
she looked into his face wonderingly. 

They went together through the sanded village street, 
through her gate and along the dear familiar garden 
walk and into the house, where they found Aunt Cal- 
line seated in a rocker, singing 


JANICE 


85 


Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, 

That saved a wretch like me/^ 

She had little Janice in her lap. The child hugged 
a gray kitten in her arms and looked with eyes wide 
open, at the old lady, as she listened to the doleful 
song. 

John only stayed long enough to greet the child and 
to get one of her old time kisses, then he went away. 

He was happy that Janice had come back of her own 
free will and could not refrain from wondering if it 
could possibly mean anything good for him. 


86 


JANICE 


CHAPTER XXL 

Aunt Calline went to town one morning to get some 
copperas to put in her chicken trough. Jeff Davis had 
been droopy for a day or two and Carrie Nation hadn^t 
been altogether as aggressive as usual and she feared 
they were on the verge of an epidemic of some sort. 

She got opposite the home of Mr. Brooks, a merchant 
of the town, just as the front door flew open and a girl 
came out screaming. 

Oh,. Aunt Calline,’’ she called, when she recognized 
this friend to all little children, ^^run quick. Tommy 
has swallowed his nickel, and is choking to death.” 

The old lady had Tommy standing on his head, and 
she was giving him a good beating in the back, in a 
moment. He coughed and the nickel flew out of his 
mouth and rolled under the bed. 

The room was in disorder. The beds were still un- 
made and Mrs. Brooks’ faded and ragged wrapper was 
lying on the floor, where she had left it, when she 
stepped out of it to array herself in all her glory for a 
whole day out. 

She had left the house and children in care of a 
servant, but there was too much work staring the ser- 
vant in the face, and she concluded to leave and go to 
Mrs. Williamson’s, where she had been promised more 
money, less work and three afternoons off, instead of 
one. In the kitchen the breakfast dishes were piled, 
unwashed in the dish pan. An old yellow cat with both 
eyes shut, was upon the table, licking the icing, that 
had not already run off of itself from a cake that was 
intended as a donation to the festival, that was to be 


JANICE 


87 


held at the parsonage in the evening. The cow* had 
her head in the back door and was helping herself to 
the turnip salad, that was bought for the noon-day meal. 

Whar is your Ma, daughter/^ Aunt Calline inquired, 
after she had driven the cow off and shut the door and 
removed the cake to a place of safety. 

She’s gone to her bridge and she won’t be home 
till late, for she’s going to the Church to a meeting, 
when she leaves the Club.” 

^^Yes, the ^Village Improvement’ meets at four 
o’clock. I* think the ladies air a-goin’ to try to ^ solve the 
servant problem,’ as they say.” 

She washed Tommy’s face and got his hat and the 
little girl’s bonnet and told them to go and stay at 
the store with their Pa till their Ma got through 
bridgin’ it and solvin’ the servant problem.” 

She stopped at the fence to talk a bit with John Neal, 
when she got to his house. He was in the yard looking 
after some improvements he was making on his house. 
He told her he was adding two new rooms and extending 
the veranda around to the back, — was going to paint up 
and hang new paper and be as fine as two fiddles before 
long. 

Seems like to me you’ve got room enough now fer 
two folks and I can’t fer the life 0’ me, see why you 
want to be makin’ more work for Edith. She can’t git 
3 L nigger to clean up the rooms she’s already got.” 

A mischievous twinkle came into his eye, ' as he said : 
^^Yes, there’s plenty 0’ room for us two, but did you 
never hear of folks getting married? ” 

She knew at once, or thought she did, that he was the 
one to be married. She felt that he owed it to her to 
give her his confidence, as she had for so long been 
one of his very best friends. He didn’t say anything 
more, and she was too proud to insist on his telling her 
all about it, but she couldn’t go until she learned a lit- 
tle more. So she asked if she was acquainted with both 
of the parties. 


88 


JANICE 


youVe never met one of them/^ he told her 
and just then, he was called off by one of the workmen; 
and she went on to town to make her purchase. 

She was so deep in thought over what she had heard, 
that she ran into a rose vine that was climbing over 
Janice Wynne^s fence and almost put out one of her 
eyes. It then occurred to her to go in and tell the news. 

Janice answered her ring at the door and she began 
at once : This town seemes like it^s on a buildin^ as 

well as on a matrimony boom. Old Ben, the shoemaker 
is addin^ a lean-to to his shebang. Dr. Jonas is 
a-buildin^ of a new chicken house and John Neal is 
addin^ two rooms to his house and a-runnin’ the mir- 
ande plum’ round to the back. I stopped and chatted a 
while with him as I come by. I axed the ’casion of the 
improvement; told him I couldn’t see how two folks 
could have any need of any more room than he already 
had. He laughed mighty ’spicious-like and said : Did 
you never hear of folks gittin’ married?’ You know 
thar alius has to be a lot o’ fixin’ and freshenin’ on im- 
portant ’casions like weddings. I was sho’ly s’prised, but 
I don’t see why I ought to of been, for the last time I 
saw Liza Smith, she told me he was off on a courtin’ 
trip. You remember the time he went off and stayed 
so long, — a whole week, wasn’t it, — not long ago ? ” 

Yes, she remembered it well, and how she had missed 
him and wished for his return, but she didn’t tell this 
to her visitor. 

You know Liza alius knows all about everybody’s 
business. She has a cousin livin’ in the very town J ohn 
went to, and this cousin wrote Liza that he was a-flyin’ 
round a mighty nice little widder, who had a plaenty o’ 
money and was a beauty too, and that the talk was 
that he was a-goin’ to bring her back with him the next 
time he goes. Hit must be a-goin’ to happen shortly, 
for I heered him tell the man that was a-bossin’ of 
his work, that it must be finished inside of a month.” 


JANICE 


89 


After Aunt Calline left, Janice went into her sewing- 
room and got her work-basket. She was always making 
pretty things for her baby and she had placed the dainty 
sacque she was embroidering in her basket at dusk the 
evening before, reluctantly, she was so interested in the 
making of the garment. 

Now she threaded her needle with blue silk and set 
a few stitches; then the work dropped in her lap and 
she rested her cheek on her hand and looked out of the 
window, as she thought. 

And he’s goin’ to be married. How fortunate the 
woman who is to be his wife. She can but be happy 
with him. I pray he may be happy too. He has had 
a lonely life. Edith is well meaning, but careless. She 
has never made his home the well ordered and attrac- 
tive place that he would have liked it to be. He deserves 
a home life, rich in happiness and blessings. She is 
beautiful, they say. He told me once that he could 
never love a homely woman. In describing his ideal, he 
said she was ^ a little woman with brown eyes and hair 
and a sweet, sensitive mouth with such tender lines 
about it. She was shy and dependent in her bearing 
and would lean on and trust him, and give her life and 
very soul unreservedly into his keeping.’ And how 
sincere and loyal and earnest will be his love for her; 
and he will care for her and keep her feet always along 
flower bordered paths.” 

Then she covered her face with her two white hands 
and there was a great rush of tears to her brown eyes, 
and she said aloud: ^^Oh! I do not want John to 
marry. Our friends are never the same to us after mar- 
riage. Now he is as an older and loved brother to me. 
There is nothing that I would hesitate to ask him to 
do for me. There is no service, that he is not glad to 
render me. When he gets this wife, I can’t go to him 
with my worries and perplexities, that he always knows 
just how to drive away. A wife would not like me to go 
to him. 


90 JANICE 

But I must not be selfish. When I get a little ac- 
customed to the thought of his belonging to this pretty 
little widow, I will tell him how glad I am that he is to 
to be happy, and I will help Edith get things in 
order and made beautiful for the coming of the bride.’^ 

Aunt Calline passed the Church on her return home, 
and the bell began to ring. She wondered if anyone 
was dead or if there was to be a wedding; then she 
remembered that the little Brooks girl had told her that 
her mother was to go to a meeting of the Village Im- 
provement Society,^^ at the Church at four o^clock. 

That^s it ” she decided, I like to keep up with what’s 
goin’ on round me. I believe I’ll drap in for a short 
spell and hear what the ladies have to say.” 

The Church was empty when she entered. She took 
her accustomed seat, picked up a book and began read- 
ing the hymns for entertainment while waiting for the 
crowd to gather. A trim little yellow dog tripped up 
the aisle, jumped upon the bench and sat up beside her. 

Guess Sister Trowbridge will be along presently, as 
Jack has come. Jack never misses anything,” she 
thought. Just then, Sister Trowbridge” came in and 
sat down by Jack. Soon other members of the Society 
began to arrive and when the roll was called, with one 
or two exceptions, the whole body was there. 

Sister Evans explained the object of the meeting. It 
was to discuss the unsatisfactory service the negroes 
were giving housekeepers and try to find a way of im- 
proving it. ^^We never know when we retire at night 
that the cook will be on hand next morning, to prepare 
breakfast. If she is and we give her a task to perform 
that isn’t exactly to her liking, she’ll fiatly refuse to do 
it, or suggests that we perform it ourselves. My ser- 
vant left me this very morning rather than rid the 
kitchen of dirt that she had put there. She insolently 
told me that she didn’t scrub her own kitchen and she 



“Guess Trowbridge will be along Presently as Josh has 
come. Jack never misses Anything,” she thought. 


(Janice) 





JANICE 


91 


wouldn^t scrub mine. The conditions are growing worse 
continually and we must find a remedy somewhere. We 
are all equally interested in the matter and I want 
suggestions from each of you. Suppose we hear some- 
thing from Aunt Calline.” 

Aunt Calline was on her feet at once and remarked 
that she saw nothing at all puzzling about it. There is 
a very simple and harmless remedy that will shorely set 
things right, ef you are willin^ to use it. A majority of 
you will think the remedy worse than the disease, but 
it ainT and ef you will give it a fair trial, — ^keep it up 
long enough, you will soon get service that will tickle 
you. Here is the remedy: Learn to work yourselves 
and don^t be afeared of it. It won^t hurt you. When 
your cook tells you to do your own scrubbin’, get busy 
and do it. Tell her to go. DonT let her think she 
goes because she wants to, but let her know that she 
goes because you wonT let her stay. There’s jest a few 
of you that know how to do anything. I heered one of 
you say a few days ago, that your husband wouldn’t eat 
your cookin’ and you didn’t blame him, for you couldn’t 
eat it yourself. Let the darkies go ; roll up your sleeves 
and tie up your heads. You won’t have to tuck up your 
skirts for the most of you have got ’em cut too short for 
decency now. Make yourselves independent of the tri- 
fling help you are putting up with. They are dependent 
on you and ef you don’t employ ’em, they will soon come 
to their senses and give you honest service for good 
wages. In my humble opinion, this is the only true 
remedy for your trouble and I leave the subject with 
you, for Brindle is a-waitin’ for me right now.” 

She walked out. Jack followed her to the door, 
watched her out of sight, then went back and sat by 
Sister Trowbridge till the meetng adjourned, without 

solving the servant problem.” 

Aunt Calline’s remedy was not palatable enough to 
suit them. 


92 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

On the evening of this same day, the light was bright 
in John NeaPs library. He had been reading, or rather 
he had been trying to concentrate his thought upon 
an article in a new magazine. Edith had brought her 
work. She was putting a lace on one of her wedding 
garments. Somehow she wanted to be with her brother 
to-night. She had an idea that he was getting unhappy 
as the time drew near when she was to take the name 
of another, one, who would of course, come in between 
them and be a little nearer and dearer to her. 

John put aside his book and fired his pipe, laughed 
and told her that he thought he had misled Aunt Cal- 
line in regard to the wedding. 

She thinks Fm the one who contemplates the giving 
up of single misery 

Just let her think that way John, I^ve never thought 
it good taste to proclaim the coming of such an event 
from the housetop. You know Pve tried from the 
first to keep it from every one, but,^^ she added in a more 
serious tone, now that I am to marry, why do you not 
go and do likewise? You would make some woman a 
mighty good husband. Is your heart so cold that no 
one has been able to kindle a flame within it? Or is 
it such a big one, and so susceptible to the charms of 
womankind, that you can^t settle on one, but must try 
to take in the whole of them. I fear you will be lonely 
when I give myself away completely to Eussell. I would 
never have consented to marry him, if he had not de- 
cided to come here, and go into the office with you. You 
must accept him as a brother, and we three will be 


JANICE 


93 


quite happy here together in the same old home. But 
as I have said, I think you would be happier if you had 
a wife and I wish you could find someone you could love 
well enough to give that place in your home.^^ 

I wonder if I have guarded the sacred secret of my 
heart so well, that even you, my sister, have not sus- 
pected it. If I have, I feel to-night that I want to tell 
it to you. There is a wee brovm-eyed woman not a 
mile away, that with all my heart, I love, I adore, I wor- 
ship. I learned to love her when she was a girl at 
school. When she grew to womanhood, I loved her still, 
A more fortunate man won her for his wife, and God 
knows that I tried to forget the love I had given her, 
from a sense of honor, but I must confess that it lingered 
no in spite of me, and to-night in the loneliness of her 
widowhood, she is far dearer to me than ever before. 
If the Good Father above would so bless me as to bring 
her to my hearthstone, to light the fire of home for me, 
there is no service I would not gladly render him.” 

Can it be that you love Janice, John? ” 

Yes, it is Janice W'ynne. She doesnT dream of it. 
IVe felt for some time that I must go to her and tell 
her of all the depth and breath and fullness of this love 
I have for her and ask her to look into her heart and see 
that if in some remote corner of it, she may not find a 
little spark of something, — esteem, respect, even pity, — • 
that I may tend and fan into a warmer sentiment. Oh, 
I can^t begin to tell you what this love I have for her 
amounts to. It is in every thought I have by day; it 
fills my every dream by night. My sole hope is that my 
life may be so clean and honorable and upright, that 
she will some day come to me. She has a great friend- 
ship for me. She trusts and comes to me with all her 
worries. Her association with me is so free and unre- 
served, that I fear if I tell her of my love, it will do 
away with all this treasured trust. It may drive her 
away from me. So I let the days and weeks go by with- 


94 JANICE 

out speaking, but God alone knows how I hunger for her 
love ! 

I have seen very little of her for the last year, in 
fact since she came back to her home,^^ said his sister. 

And I can^t tell you what I think of your chances to 
win her, John, but I will find out. One woman can 
usually read another, if she goes about it in the right 
way.^^ 

The fresh paint on John NeaPs house glistened in the 
morning sunlight. The interior decorations were fin- 
ished and approved. The last workman had gone. 

Edith was as busy and excited as girls always are 
when preparing for the most eventful day of all their 
lives. 

She opened the front door and stepped out upon the 
veranda just as Janice Wynne came up the walk. 

As she took her hand, she noticed that she was not 
looking well. She was too pale and her eyes had dark 
shadows under them, as if she had not been sleeping 
well. 

Fve heard of the wedding Edith, and have come to 
offer congratulations and to ask you to let me help 
you, if there is anything I can do. You must let me do 
something, — ^your brother has done so much for me,^^ 
she said, with a little catch in her voice. 

Come right in, but let me show you the rooms before 
you sit down. Everything is so pretty and I am so 
proud of it all. John has fine taste. I left it to him and 
he has just overdone himself.^^ 

She took her through the parlor, library and dining- 
room, then into her own apartment. Here the walls 
were of the palest green, scattered over with dainty 
pink buds. The rugs and cushions matched them, and 
the filmy lace curtains overhung pale green silk shades. 
The pretty bed and dresser with so many beautiful things 
lying upon it, were admired and then they went into 
John^s room. 


JANICE 


95 


This is the sunniest and prettiest room of all and he 
deserves the very choicest and best of everything; he is 
so unselfish, dear old J ohn/^ declared his sister. 

Here the walls were cream, with great bunches of 
lilacs upon them, that looked as if their cups held all 
the rich fragrance of the living blossoms. There were 
soft, luxurious chairs, pretty pictures and books and 
rare bric-a-brac and elegant rugs and curtains. Janice 
took in all the beauty and luxury and then she said : 

What life must be in a home like this, the wife of a 
man like John.^^ 

A red fiush overspread her face, when she realized 
how she had spoken. She turned and went hastily out 
of the room. 

Edith had read this woman and she knew that she 
loved John! 

Janice made no further allusion to the wedding until 
she was leaving. Then she said: ^^Wlien will your 
brother bring his bride ? 

‘^Why, you silly child, John is not to be married. I 
am to be the bride. I thought you knew all about it.^^ 

Janice went down the walk and into the street and 
home, her feet falling so lightly and her heart beating 
happily. She put off her hat, and humming a gay tune, 
she began rummaging her wardrobe for something 
pretty to wear to the wedding. 


96 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 

Edith^s wedding was a Church affair. The whole 
village was bidden and the whole village was there. 

The bridegroom was handsome and happy and the 
bride lovely in a pretty going-away gown, with an arm- 
ful of white roses. 

John gave her away and tried to look happy too, but 
he was far from feeling so, for he realized that he was 
giving away all of his own that he had to love him. 

He kissed Edith good-bye, saw the carriage driven 
away, that was to, take the happy couple to the railroad 
and then he went home. 

He spent the remainder of the day trying to read 
and at dusk he went out upon the lawn. As he walked 
with his hands clasped behind him, he heard a wee voice 
say Open the gate, J ohn. I want you ; he saw Janice 
Wynne^s little girl peeping through the pickets, and he 
went and admitted her. She made a pretty picture of 
a run-a-way baby, with her curls tangled above her eyes 
and her eating apron on ; her hands and mouth showing 
that strawberry jam had been upon her bill of fare. He 
possessed all a man^s abhorrence of a contact with jam 
of any kind, and he told her to go in the house. He 
followed her, got a basin of water, washed her face and 
hands and brushed her curls. As he did this, she asked : 

Have you seen my Mamma, J ohn ? I want her. Don’t 
you want her too ? ” 

Indeed I do,” he replied. We will go and find 
her.” 

He took her out to the street and met her mother 
coming in search of her. 



Never before had Janice been so Entertaining and Never 
had John been so Happy. 


(Janice) 



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JANICE 97 

I have found a lost child/^ he laughingly said. 
You must prove property, if she is yours/^ 

He tried to loosen the little fingers, that held to his 
own, but she would not allow him to do so and declared 
that he must go home with her to see her kitten and 
doll. 

''Will you come in?'^ Janice asked, as he opened the 
gate for her. " If you will, I can give you a cup of tea 
and a slice of Aunt Calline^s best bread and butter. She 
has just sent me a fresh hot loaf.^^ 

" I believe I will,^^ and he went into the cozy sitting- 
room. " I haven^t the courage to go home. You don^t 
know how empty and lonely it is without Edith,^^ 

" Yes, I know only too well all the loneliness and 
emptiness of a broken home,^^ she told him. 

John sat in a rocking chair. The little girl climbed 
upon his lap, laid her curly head against his breast and 
went sound asleep. He put her on the lounge and cov- 
ered her with an afghan and when Janice came in the 
room, he took the tray with the bread and butter and 
cakes from her and she went back for the tea. They 
sat down opposite each other at the table. 

The room was all aglow with light and a cheery wood 
fire blazed and crackled and sent its red sparks flying 
up the wide chimney. Never before had Janice been 
so entertaining and never had John been so happy. He 
laughed at everything she said, took two cups of tea 
and ate all the bread and butter without knowing it. 
He knew nothing in fact, save that he was alone at home 
with the woman he had loved so long. 

" Will you sing me one song before I go,’^ he asked, 
as he opened the piano. 

"What shall it be?^^ she inquired. 

" Suppose you try this,^^ and he placed a sheet of music 
before her. A smile played about her mouth, when 
she saw that it was a new piece that she had just 
learned ; 


98 


JANICE 


If you were mine. 

This world would be a paradise of flowers; 

^^The darkest day with golden light would shine, 
And I would dream that it was endless Summer, 
If you were mine ; if you were mine. 

Here he joined her in the singing, all his soul in the 
words : 

^^If you were mine. 

The morning sun each day would give new glory, 
While roses into garlands I would twine, 

I know my life would tell a sweeter story. 

If you were mine ; just mine.^^ 

Here she stopped. 

What a silly little song,^^ she said, but well she knew 
that it was an echo from a strong man^s heart. 

John had gotten his hat and put it on the table, be- 
fore the song was begun, but he didn^t put it on his 
head, when it was finished. It remained on the table 
and he followed J anice to the fire, drew a chair in front 
of it and told her to sit down. He drew up another chair 
and sat near her. 

Then he asked : What are your plans and hopes for 
the future 

Plans,^^ she said, I havenT any. Why should I 
make plans? In years gone by, I planned for a home 
and a long, glad life with Dick. You know what became 
of those plans, and hopes. — Oh ! how many I had, and 
how sweet and roseate they were, but they are all dead. 
What have I to live for, to strive for now, but just my 
little child. All else that I have loved has been taken 
from me, and I try not to love her too well, fearing that 
I will lose her also.^^ 

I wish you would let me plan some for you. I 
would plan for you a life, in which I would always be 


JANICE 


99 


with you, to love you, to care for you, to work for you. 
I would awaken new hopes in your heart, where those 
old ones so sadly died. Has it never occurred to you 
Janice, that I have loved you almost all your life? 
When you became Dick^s wife, I tried to put this love out 
of my heart, and far away from me, for honor’s sake and 
I tried to be happy because you were happy. When 
your troubles came, you can never know what comfort 
I found in trying to comfort you.” 

And you John, can never know the help you gave me 
and the blessing you have been to me, and I can never 
by word or deed, make you know the depth of my grat- 
itude to you for it all.” 

Stop, don’t speak of gratitude. It is not your 
gratitude I am begging for. It is your love. That is 
all that is worth anything to me and I am so lonely 
without it. Can’t you try to love me, if it is only such 
a little bit ? As you sang just now, — ^ I’d try to make 
this world like Heaven above you, if you were mine, 
just mine.’ I’m going now. Think of what I have said 
to you and when you feel that you can care enough for 
me to let me come into this life near to you, tell me so, 
will you?” 

will think of it, John. It is so new to me. I 
never dreamed of your earing for me in this way.” 

He took his hat then, and went home to dreams of 
her. 

She sat long, when he had left her. . She could think 
now of so many things he had said and done, that should 
have told her of his love long ago. A man like John 
should have all of the love of a woman’s soul. Could I 
give him all of mine,” she asked herself and answered : 

I think I could.” 


lOO 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

A WHOLE week passed and John had not a, glimpse 
of Janice or a word from her. 

He was getting pretty low down in spirit. He had 
been thinking of her all day, wondering if there was to 
come no call from her to him. He concluded to stop 
work and walk down her way and if he didn’t see her 
about the garden, he might go in. 

Just as he put up his papers and locked his safe, 
Aunt Calline came bustling in, her face letting him 
know at once that she had something startling to tell. 

Without any preliminaries, she asked. Did you 
know that Janice Wynne’s baby was mighty sick with 
dipthery? I’ve just come from thar, and it does look 
like that poor little woman has more trouble than any 
other livin’ creetur. The child has been ailin’ for a 
day or two, but Dr. Jones didn’t know it was dipthery 
till to-day. She has a mighty high fever, is a-talkin’ 
outen her head and I’m afeered it’s a powerful bad case, 
You know everybody is afeered of the disease, and there’s 
not a single person a-goin’ thar to help Janice nuss 
her baby. I’m a-goin’ home and milk Brindle and shet 
up my house and then I’m goin’ back to stay all night.” 

As soon as she left John went to see about it. The 
doctor was still there, the anxious mother sitting by 
the bed, holding the baby’s little hot hands. When the 
doctor left, John followed him out to get his opinion of 
the case, and it was not at all encouraging. 

He went back to the room and stood beside her. She 
said : Oh, John, my baby will die. Did I not tell you 

that I tried not to love her too much, fearing that she 
would be taken from me ? ” 


JANICE 


lOI 


You must not despair Janice. Everything possible 
shall be done to save her. I told Dr. Jones to wire Dr, 
Ellis to come at once, and bring the best nurse he knew 
of with him. He has a fine reputation, has been very 
successful in his treatment of such cases; and a nurse 
who understands and can be right by all the time, is 
indispensable and will relieve you of so much responsi- 
bility. I will stay with you too and nothing shall be 
left undone. Try to look on the bright side. I feel 
sure that we can bring your baby through all right,^^ 
and he took her hand between his two big strong ones 
and held it for a moment. 

Dr. Ellis and the nurse arrived and went on duty next 
day, but nothing could induce Janice to leave the room 
for the rest she so much needed. Dr. Ellis stayed right 
beside her and met every advance of the disease and his 
reward came on the third day. There was a reaction and 
it soon became manifest that the crisis had been passed. 

Janice, who had stood so bravely at her post, when 
there was little or no hope, when informed that a recov- 
ery was anticipated, became prostrated and was for two 
weeks extremly ill herself. 

The snow had melted from the hillside. The jonquils 
and other sweet Spring flowers were making bright the 
garden walks. The birds were splitting their throats 
with song in the plum trees. Janice was sitting by the 
window in a pretty wrapper, catching the fragrance that 
the breeze brought in. 

John Neal came in and filled her lap with long sprays 
of yellow jasmine and pink buds of the crab-apple and 
large blue golden-centered violets from the woods. 

^^The Winter is over and gone,^^ he said. ^^All 
Nature is putting on pretty garments and taking on 
new life and you must do the same, little woman.^^ 

Yes, I think myself I must try to do this. I have 


102 


JANICE 


so much to be thankful for. God has indeed been good 
to me in giving me back my baby. I have friends too, 
you and Aunt Calline, the truest among them. I would 
seem ungrateful to selfishly repine and longer brood 
over my past troubles. I think I must discard my 
sombre garments and put on livelier tints and get out 
among my friends again and try to enjoy the many 
blessings that I still have left me. And you, John, — 
you have worried over us long enough. You^ve scarcely 
rested for almost a month for watching with me. YouVe 
let business and everything go. I am getting well now 
and you must go away for a while. You are almost as 
worn and wasted as is your troublesome patient.^^ 

And what will become of this ^ troublesome patient,^ 
if I go off and leave her ? 

am invited to visit a friend. I shall go to her 
next week, if I am strong enough. I think to get away 
from these rooms for a while will do me a great deal of 
good.^^ 

Who is this friend you wish to visit ? ” and How 
far away will you go ? he asked quickly. 

My friend is Aunt Calline, and she promises to give 
me her best and sunniest room and gallons of Brindleys 
rich, creamy milk and broiled Spring chicken and a 
daily ride on her gentle old gray horse. She says she will 
have my eyes as bright as evening stars, and my cheeks 
the color of a red, red rose and all of my old time energy 
and strength restored to me in one month’s time. Just 
think of it ! ” 

Are you in earnest about it, this visit to Aunt Cal- 
line ? ” 

Indeed I am. As she would say, if I don’t have a 
^ collapse,’ I will go to her next W^ednesday. I will be 
in the best of hands and you must go away at once, 
Promise me that you will.” 

I will consider the matter,” he said. 

He went directly to Aunt Calline’s cottage. He 


JANICE 103 

hadnH been there for a long time and he wished to see 
what it promised in the way of comforts. 

Aunt Calline met him at the door and took him in her 
best room. It was as neat as ^soft soap’ and willing 
hands could make it. The chairs, with bright chintz 
covered cushions and bed with its snowy pillows and 
pretty patchwork covering, surely looked like anyone 
could rest and sleep well upon them. 

Do you really wish Janice and her baby to make you 
a visit? If you do, I think it just the right thing for 
her. You will know how to care for them. You are 
sensible and cheerful, the very woman to comfort and 
help her. I will bring her to you and then I am going 
off to find a pleasant place for a couple to spend a honey- 
moon,” and he left her, laughing slyly. 

He carried Janice and her little girl to Aunt Cal- 
line’s according to agreement. After depositing them in 
her company” room, he said: ^^Take good care of 
Janice for me. Aunt Calline, until I come for her,” and 
to the old lady’s surprise and Janice’s embarrassment, 
he bent and kissed her on the forehead. 


104 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XXV. 

Aunt Calline kept every promise she had made. 
Brindleys rich milk stood to hand in a pretty pitcher, 
with a glass beside it and yellow-legged chickens were 
broiled as she only could broil them. She saddled and 
brought to the door each day the dependable old horse, so 
that Janice could have long rides down the lanes and 
across grassy meadows. 

She never left her alone to think, but got out the 
books that she and Josiah had read together and laughed 
over, when they were young, — Major Jones^ Courtship 
and Marriage and Samantha Billings, among them. 

She told her of the early days of her married life, 
when she had made sacrifices and encouraged Josiah to 
lay up something for a rainy day.^^ 

I must tell you of our first meetin^ and courtship, 
she said one evening, as she sewed rags for a new carpet 
that she intended to get in the old fashioned loom shortly. 

It was shorely love at fust site with us. Mother dis- 
kivered late one evenin^ that the karoseen can was 
empty. She wanted to have a quiltin’ and had laid 
off to card the cotton for it after supper. She told me 
to run up to Mr. Wright’s store whar we traded, and 
git the can filled. When I went in, I saw a new clerk 
behind the counter. He come forward with such a quick 
step and bowed so perlite-like and axed what he could 
do fer me. I thought he had the honestest look in his 
eyes and his hair waved in the purtiest sort o’ way 
above his broad forred and it was jest the color of a ripe 
chestnut. I was fixed up real nice. I was a mighty 
proud gal, and alius went neat, ef I couldn’t go fine. He 


JANICE 


105 


got the oil and tuck it plum^ out to the street fer me and 
said he hoped I would call agin. Somehow I couldn^t 
think of another thing that night, but that man and 
donH you think I hadn’t more’n drapt asleep tell I was 
a-dreamin’ about him. The next Sunday, when I got to 
Sunday-school, all 0’ the gals was a-talkin’ about the 
new beau, that had come to town and a-wonderin’ which 
one would ketch him. Every last one o’ ’em had sot 
her cap fer him. While all this talk was a-goin’ on, 
he come in with Mr. Wright and tuck a seat right across 
from us, I seen him a-lookin’ my way every time I lifted 
my eyes, and I could feel the blood a-rushin’ to my 
face continually. When Sunday-school was over, Mr. 
Wright brought him over and interduced him to us gals 
and told us we must look after him, fer he was Jest 
a country boy and hadn’t ever been away from his Ma 
before. He tuck my books and axed me to walk down 
to the spring for a fresh drink before meetin’ begun. 
He went home with me after service and axed if he could 
call to see me Monday night. After that, he was what 
you might call ^my shadder.’ Every chance he got, 
thar he was talkin’ to me at the gate, or a-settin’ in our 
company rOom a-singin’ outen the same singin’ book 
with me. I belonged to the quire and he Jined too, and I 
tell you nobody could tetch him when it come to tribble. 
He told me I was a long way the purtiest gal in town 
and that he would a-quit plowin’ long before he did, ef 
he had a-knowed I lived thar. 

But somehow, he didn’t come right to the pint and 
ax me to marry him. All the gals got to teasin’ me about 
him and axin’ when the weddin’ was a-comin’ off, and 
a-sayin’ there was a site 0^ courtin’ a-goin’ on for no mar- 
ryin’. All my other beaus drapt off, quit a-comin’ and 
Jest give him the whole track. I begun to git worrid 
and a-wonderin’ why he didn’t speak his min’ ef he 
had one and I decided it might be a good idea to sorter 
help him along a little, for mebbe he was afeered o’ bein^ 


io6 


JANICE 


kicked. You know thar’s lots men who^d ruther be 
kicked by a mule than a woman, any day. 

Well, I decided I would send him a valentine. The 
stores didn’t keep these fine valentines with naked boys 
a-shootin’ at hearts and roses and forgetmenots and 
purty verses on ’em then, like they do now. We young 
folks had to make ’em for ourselves and write our own 
sentiments on ’em. I tuck an extry lot o’ fat pine in the 
kitchen one evenin’ and I didn’t hurry to git through 
with the dishes, when supper was over. I wanted every- 
body to get off to bed. When everythin’ got still, I 
wrote the verses I had been a-makin’ up for a day or two, 
on a nice sheet o’ paper and I tell you I wrote the purt- 
iest I knowed how. I wrote in a little fine hand, with a 
lot o’ flourishes and fancy crossing o’ the T’s and so on, 
and here’s what I wrote: 

I often set and look at you 
^^And wish that you was mine; 

And I’m a-goin’ to up and say so 
^^In this here valentine.” 

Ef you love me like I love you. 

Don’t hesitate a minit ; 

Just come and offer me yer hand, 

And I’ll put mine right in it.” 

I put it in a little envelope that I made outen a piece 
of blue paper that come in a box of Sedlitz powders and 
I mailed it soon in the mornin’ before folks got to stirrin’ 
round. That night before we got thro’ with supper, I 
heered Josiah come up on the front porch. Ain’t it 
quare how soon a gal will learn the step o’ the man she 
is a-lovin’ ? She learns it so well, she can tell it from 
any other, no matter whar she hears it. I had put a 
light in the front room and powdered my face and 
ringed me some beau-ketchers on my forrid and put a 
red ribbon in my hair. I laid my Sunday worsted dress 


JANICE 


107 


on the bed in my room, so I conld git in it in a hurry and 
when I heered Josiah^s step on the porch, I slipped in 
my room, and got into that dress and flung a white zeffer 
shawl over my head and stole out the back way, went 
round the house and in the front door like I staid dressed 
up all the time. 

When I met Josiah, the fust thing I seen was the 
corner o^ my valentine a-stickin^ outen his coat pocket. 
He come right to me and held out his hand and with- 
out saying a word, I put my hand in his^n. He held on 
to it and led me out to the kitchen, whar Mother and 
Pap was still at supper and axed how long it would 
take to git ready fer a weddin^ It didn’t take long, fer 
I know’d J oshia’d have a livin’ to make and I’d have to 
help him and wouldn’t need a lot 0’ finery. 

I made me a white dress to he married in and Pap 
give me a lilac silk for a second day dress. We got mar- 
ried Sunday and went out eight miles in the county 
to Josiah’s Pa’s, and Monday they give us an infair 
dinner. We then went back to town, Josiah to meas- 
urin’ out karoseen agin and I to straightenin’ things 
in our new home. 

You’ve got sleepy. Honey, hain’t yer?” 

No, Pd like to hear more of your life, Aunt Calline. 
It is interesting to me.” 

Well Honey, I spect, you’d better lay down now and 
I’ll tell you some more mebbe to-morrow night.” 


io8 


JANICE 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 

The next evening Janice was very eager to hear more 
of the life of her good old friend and the supper dishes 
were hardly out of the way before she was urging Aunt 
Calline to sit down and take up her story right where 
she left off the evening before. 

^^Well, let^s see, Honey, I believe we had got back 
home after our wedding trip. Well, we got on mighty 
well for poor folks. Josiah^s Pa give us a cow and a 
couple 0 ^ shoats and Mother give us a churn and some 
chickens and a lot o^ other things, that a young cou- 
ple needs in starting out. Josiah got his wages raised 
and we had about everything that was good fer us, I 
reckon. 

Now, jest when we got to bein^ so happy and pros- 
perous, folks begun to talk about the war a-comin\ We 
didn^t believe much in it at fust, — but after a while it 
looked like it would be a fact. The boys begun to drill 
at night on the square and thar was speeches made in 
the Court House. One man told us we jest had to fight, 
it was all we could do ; and another one told us to stand 
by the Yunyun and the star-spangled banner. We wim- 
men folks all turned out to hear ^em. Ef there jest had 
to be a fight, it was to be ourn too. 

Josiah come home one night and sot down by the 
stove. I was jest a-puttin^ the biskit in to bake. He 
pulled me down on his knee and put his arm round my 
waist, — ^he could about span it then, — and he said in 
a solemn sort of a tone : ^ Calline, thar^s gwynne to be 
war, and it ain^t a-gwynne to be much of a picnic nuther. 
Most all the boys air a-gwynne. What do you think of 


JANICE 


109 


me a-jinin^ ^em? ^My heart almost stopped beatiii\ I 
put his hair back from his forrid and kissed it and I 
choked back my tears and tried to laugh a little and I 
said: ^Well, I reckon you^d better go long with the 
boys. You won^t have anywhar to stay, fer you can^t 
stay here with me if your country needs you. Fve 
alius thought a man^s fust duty was to his Maker, his 
next to his country and then his wife is entitled to a 
showin^ ^ Yes, I guess you^ll have to go/ 

I didn^t eat a bite o^ supper and J osiah tuck a mighty 
light one and we didn^t say anuther word about the war 
that night. Soon it was all settled, we had to fight. 
About all the young men got ready to go. Some 0^ the 
older ones said they^d be on hand later. They wouldn’t 
need all of ’em at once. It was like settin’ up with the 
sick. Thar was alius plenty o’ company early in the 
night, but company was alius scarce towards mornin’. 
I’ve had several hard jobs in my life, but the hardest 
one I ever had was gittin’ Josiah ready fer the army. I 
put a plenty 0’ socks I had knit myself and good strong 
underwear up for him. I baked up a lot 0’ syrup cakes 
and bread. He started off with a plenty, ef he did come 
back nekked and hongry. 

The mornin’ the boys started, they gathered on the 
square and had a speech from Col. Wynne, Dick’s Pa. 
John Neal’s Pa spoke too and presented a flag to ’em, 
that the ladies had made. The drum beat, the fife played 
Katie Darlin’ and our boys marched away. I went in 
to my empty room and shot the door and knelt down by 
the bed. I axed the Lord to keep his eye on J osiah and 
His Strong arm about him and bring him back to me 
safe and sound, when his duty was done and I knowed 
He would do it. 

Josiah was in many a battle. The shot and shell fell 
thick around him, but when the smoke cleared away, 
thar he was ready to load and fire agin. Many a night 
he laid on the ground, with nothin’ warmer to kiver him 


no 


JANICE 


than the stars above and a blanket o’ snow. I tried to 
git him to jine a ^ Critter Company/ as the boys called 
the cavalry. You see, while I was shore he would never 
turn his back to the Yankees, till thar was nuthin’ else 
he could do, ef sech a thing did come about, I wanted 
him to have as quick transpertation as was to be had, 
but he stuck to his home company. He was never in 
the horsepittle but two days and never axed fer a fur- 
low. One night, as he sot by the camp-fire writin’ to me. 
his Cap’n axed him ef he didn’t git homesick. He told 
him that he would ruther see Calline that night than any- 
thing on the yearth, except the war over and victory 
perched on that Confederate banner. Well, his Cap’n 
told him he could make a visit home ef he felt that-a-way. 
He didn’t let me know he was a-comin’. I had been 
a-thinkin’ about him more than usual one day and to- 
wards night I tuck a baskit and went out to the tater- 
bank to git some taters to chip up and parch to make 
coffee out of. I got some little ones. I kept the big ones 
to fry. Jest as I started back to the house, I heered 
somebody say : ^ Them’s mighty poor little stringy tat- 
ers you’ve growed, Calline,’ and thar he was a-peepin’ at 
me thro’ the fence. I drapped all the taters and hopped 
over that fence and put my arms around his neck, 
a-laughin’ and a-cryin’ all at the same time. I’d a-never 
a-picked this time to have his picture tuck, fer he was 
about the sorriest specimen I had ever sot eyes on. I 
didn’t let a soul know that night that he had come. I 
wanted him all to myself and I wanted to dress him 
up a little better too. I had made him a new suit 
and I was a-gwynne to send it to him the fust chance I 
got. Nex’ mornin’ he put it on and we went in town. 
He had letters and messages from the boys he had left 
behind, for their home-folks. 

I wanted to make his visit a happy one, so I decided 
to give him a party before he went back. I made a lot o’ 
soggum cakes and tater and apple pies and so on and 


JANICE 


III 


put ’em away in the cupboard. Jest then, I heered a 
loud scream out in the street and I run to the front door 
to see what was the matter and I seen about a dozen 
Yankees a-comin’ right in at the gate. I slammed the 
door and run back in the house and I met Josiah a-comin’ 
a-fallin’ over the churn and cheers and everythin’ else 
that got in his way. He had seen a squad of ’em a-gittin’ 
over the back fence. 

Git in the bed and kiver up,” I told him and I got 
my night cap from under the piller and told him to put 
it on. He went under the kiver and done jest like I told 
him and I sorter got my wits together jest as one Yankee 
stepped in. He stopped close to the door and axed me 
who that was in the bed and right then and thar I told 
the fust downright lie I ever told in my life. I had been 
cornered a few times and had to beat round the bush a 
little, but this time, I helt up my head and told a plum’ 
lie, a lie outen the whole cloth. 

That’s my poor old sick mother,” I said. I seen 
Josiah’s foot and breeches leg a-pokin’ out from under 
the kiver and I was afeered the Yankee would see it too, 
but he somehow didn’t. 

What ails your old mammy ? ” he then axed me. I 
seen Josiah a-tremblin’ and a-shakin’ the bed close and 
I up and told anuther lie (jes’ like folks alius do. One 
lie alius calls fer anuther.) 

She’s a-chillin’,” I said. I was a-‘shakin’ too and he 
said it looked like to him that I was a-chillin’ too. ^ What 
yer got ter eat already cooked,’ he axed me. I told him 
it want my time o’ day fer cookin’ and he said it was 
his time o’ day fer eatin’ and that if I didn’t git bizzy and 
give him as good a meal as I had in the d — d shop, he 
would use a mighty good persuader, that he kept in his 
belt handy, on me. 

^^When he said this, my ^poor old sick Mammy’ 
jumped outen that bed with that night cap on, picked up 
a cheer and laid him out on the floor. I was skeered to 


II2 


JANICE 


death for Josiah, but about that time I heered a yell 
outside, — the first time I ever heered the rebel yell, — 
and our own boys in gray come a-runnin^ in. They made 
a prisoner of my perlite visiter, stayed over night among 
us all, and we had the party. We had old Tom, our blind 
fiddler, to tune up his fiddle and we had a dance, that the 
purty gals of the village and the boys in gray remembered 
for many a day. 

The war didn^t end like we wanted it to. Honey, but 
God let it end as it did and I recon it was the right way, 
ITl have to be a lot more knowin^ and far-seein^ than I 
am, to put my jedgment up agin His’n. 

Josiah got home from the war, when it was all over. 
We lived twenty-five years o’ happiness together, for 
which I’ve alius bin thankful and then after passin’ 
through four years o’ fightin’ and exposure and never — 
bein’ fetched, he laid down peacefully in his bed, and 
died with the numony, — ^strange, wasn’t it ? ” 


JANICE 


113 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

After John left Janice with Aunt Calline, he went to 
a quiet place in the mountains and rested for a couple 
of weeks. He then went into the City and attended to 
a business matter, that he should have looked after 
earlier. 

While there, he bought himself some new clothes ; he 
also bought a diamond ring, that was too small for his 
smallest finger and he put it in a little white kid box 
and put that in his vest pocket, after which he turned 
his face homeward. 

When within a mile of town, he recognized Aunt Cal- 
line’s ^^ridin’ iiag,” with Janice mounted on her back, 
coming down the hill. The little woman was wonder- 
fully improved. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks, 
not quite as red as a rose, but with a tint in them that 
deepened when she saw him coming. 

She turned back with him. He took her from the 
horse^s back and placed her on the step and asked Aunt 
Calline if she would give him a plate at supper. 

He went home to find Edith to welcome him and there 
he made a toilet, as he told her, to go a-courting. He put 
on his prettiest tie and combed his hair three different 
ways before it suited him. He got into his new suit 
and pinned a rose on his coat and went back to Aunt 
Calline^s where he found Janice setting the table and 
the old lady basting one of Carrie Nation^s offspring 
with butter and pepper. They took their supper, after 
which they sat in the company room, where a small fire 
blazed cheerfully. 

^^Did you find a nice place to spend a honeymoon, 


1 14 JANICE 

John?” asked Aunt Calline, when she had gotten hei* 
knitting needles going. 

dandy place,” he answered. 

When air you goin^ thar to spend it ? ” 

^^Let me see, — ^this is May, I think Fll go in the 
middle of October. It is a pretty place up in the hills. 
The leaves will be taking on their gorgeous tints in 
October. The nuts will be ripening and the air will be 
crisp and invigorating. Cheerful wood fires will be in 
order, and my sweetheart will be well and strong, able to 
take long gallops through pretty lanes and climbs to hill- 
tops to witness lovely sunsets.” 

Stop and tell me who is your sweetheart and how 
long you\e bin ingaged,” said the old lady, laying down 
her knitting. 

He drew his chair close to J anice and taking her hand, 
he said : Here is the lady of my love and I^m going to 
be engaged in a half a minute, if she will allow me to put 
this ring upon her dainty hand ” He had taken the ring, 
that he bought while away, from his vest pocket and held 
it, — waiting. 

Put it on,” she said and then the promise of Aunt 
Calline was made good, for her cheeks became indeed like 
a red, red rose. 

A glad light brightened all his face and he said : At 
last, after all the long years of weary waiting, I am 
happy, as I never was before, as I never dared hope to be, 
— and it is settled, — ^the wedding day will be the 12th of 
October. It was my mothers wedding day. We will 
build us a home on the crest of the hill beyond the school- 
house where I first found and learned to love you Janice, 
and there we will begin a new life.” 

No, John, I must remain where I have lived all of 
my life. Some of the happiest as well as the saddest days 
of my life have been spent there. Every room in the 
house and every foot of ground in the garden, are sacred 
and dear to me. I would never see strangers going in 


JANICE 


115 


and out there without pain. We will do over the house 
and you shall use your own taste and make it beautiful 
for me, as you made the home for Edith and there we 
will begin the new and God grant, the happy life for 
us both. You will be kind and true to me. You could 
never be anything else and you will love me always and 
I — I will love you, too and be to you a good and faithful 
wife.^^ 

In the last month of Summer, the buildin’ boom,^^ as 
Aunt Calline said, when old Ben, the shoemaker, added a 

lean-to to his shebang and Dr. Jones built a new 
chicken house and John Neal added two rooms and run 
his ^^^mirander’ around the house,^^ struck the town 
again. Two new rooms were added to Janice Wynne’s 
house. It was painted and decorated and prettily fur- 
nished and sure enough on the 12th day of October, 
there was a wedding. 

After a wedding breakfast, John Neal and his bride 
went up in the hills and spent a part of their honeymoon. 
It didn’t end there, for they came back, he to a life as 
happy as a life can be and she to realize all that a life 
must be in a home like this, the wife of a man like 
John.” 


And still a rainbow’s bending, 
^^When the storm has rolled away; 
And Grod’s love is unending. 

And the dark drifts into day.” 



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